


come home to my heart

by tozier



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Lane Centric, No Smut, it does get Steamy though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tozier/pseuds/tozier
Summary: “No.”One word. Who knew one word was all it took to set Lane Kim free? It isn’t going to be Lane Van Gerbig, like she’d doodled furiously in her songwriting notebook so many years ago, forcing her own hand. It didn’t feel like the right last name then; that name had already come and gone.Or, Lane Kim leaves a life she never wanted, falls, and learns to fly on the way down.





	come home to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends!
> 
> Forewarning: if you like Zack or support his and Lane's relationship, you probably won't enjoy this. I tried to be unbiased, but I don't know how well I succeeded. He's not featured very heavily, but his influence is.
> 
> I struggled on rating this piece. It's somewhere between Teen and Mature. There's no sex, but it does get... steamy.
> 
> Thank you to the Jess to my Rory, the Dave to my Lane, Andy, without whom this fic wouldn't be finished. His unflagging support is the wind in my sails.
> 
> Title is from Lorde's delightful tune Supercut.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“No.”

One word. Who knew one word was all it took to set Lane Kim free? It isn’t going to be Lane Van Gerbig, like she’d doodled furiously in her songwriting notebook so many years ago, forcing her own hand. It didn’t feel like the right last name then; that name had already come and gone.

Lane takes off and carefully folds her green apron with the Luke’s Diner logo emblazoned on it, setting it on the counter. She knows she’s going to have to talk to Luke about quitting the diner she’s standing in later, and she takes a quick look at him. He’s standing behind the counter, eyes wide, and gives her an almost imperceptible slow nod. It gives her the strength she needs to have the rest of this conversation.

Suddenly, as she looks back at Zack’s stunned face who is still taking it all in, the ultimate rejection, she realizes she has the choice to be Lane Kim for as long as she wants now. She felt like Lane Van Gerbig was who she had to be; Lane Van Gerbig is the path she is meant to be on, the plan. But Lane had felled a tree in that path and destroyed it permanently with just one word, the word she never said to Zack, never had the courage to say.

“What did you say?” Zack’s voice is reedy and soft in the way, after knowing him for so long, she knows will lead to shouting. Lane is viscerally aware that there are many patrons in the diner, people she’s known her entire life, staring at her change her own life in stunned silence all around them. Shouting in front of them would cause a scene.

“We should go outside, Za--”

“No, Lane. We’re going to stand right here and you’re going to repeat yourself.” _So, not causing a scene isn’t in the cards, then_ , she supposes. “I asked you to marry me. I have a damn…” Zack shoves a hand in the pocket of his jeans and produces a ring, which would be admittedly shitty, even if she _did_ want to marry him. “Here. This belongs to you. I picked it out myself.” He reaches out for Lane’s hand, either hand, trying desperately to fit the ring onto one of her fingers. He’s getting manic, and Lane, for as many years as she’s known the man standing in front of her, didn’t know how to fix this situation. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t really care to. It finally isn't her job to fix Zack ever-wounded pride. Not anymore.

“Zack.” He continues to flutter and Lane loses her patience with all of it. With how Zack has treated her, with the man who should’ve been asking her to marry him leaving town all those years ago, with all the townspeople watching them. “Zack!” she shouts. Zack stops and looks her in the eye. “I said no, Zack. I don’t want to marry you.” A long, pregnant pause. You could hear a pin drop in the overpopulated diner. People are starting to gather at the windows outside and Lane resists the urge to roll her eyes; that wouldn’t go over well.

“Why not?” He doesn’t look defeated, though his voice sounds that way. He looks ready to battle, but Lane has already set down her sword.

“Because I’m done. I don’t want to keep up this charade anymore. I don’t belong here, in this town, in this diner, in this… relationship," Lane says, exasperated, exhausted, but free. "Zack, we’re not meant to be. You have to know that by now.”

“No, _Lane_ , I do not _know that_. How long have you felt this way?” His voice is sharp but does not cut her anymore. She laughs, albeit humorously.

“Since he left and you made yourself the next option,” she says, and she's tired. She's so tired. She can't bring herself to tip-toe around all of Zack’s insecurities anymore. His eyes flash.

“You mean _Dave_?” Zack spits out Lane’s ex boyfriend's name like a poison. Lane feels something inside her shrivel at his tone matched with the word, the name she's had rattling around in her brain since the night she met him. But she’s a master at lying by omission after so many years of practice in a house maybe ¼ mile away. She schools her expression so it’s like he had never said anything at all and she thinks her mother would be proud. “Even still?”

“Yes.” It’s simple. Fact.

“You still love him, don’t you? Is that why you’re saying no?” He's manic, eyes wild, but Lane just shakes her head softly, sadly. He doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't.

“I’m saying no because I don’t want to be with you.” She looks around and the town is looking at her like she's a villain, a criminal. Lane can't bring herself to care. “I’ll have my stuff out by the morning. Be well, Zack. I mean that.” And with that, Lane leaves a job she never wanted, a life she never wanted, and Zack himself behind.

\--

As Lane packs her stuff away in the apartment she and Zach share ( _Shared_ , her brain supplies) with Brian, she wonders what to do, where to go from here. Her mother would never let her stay there again; she’s an adult, Mrs. Kim would say, she has to make it on her own. Lane could leave some stuff in the garage of Lorelai’s house, the garage she fell in love for the first time in, but she doesn’t want to impose. As much time as she had spent at the Gilmore’s home in her formative years, she isn’t part of their family. Hopefully her mother is having a good day.

 _God_ , she thinks, _running into Zach in town will be just incredible. Very rock and roll, living in the same small town as your ex. I’m sure the songs I write about this will be just fabulous._

As she begins stressing about where the hell she’s going to _live_ , Lane opens the desk drawer in the living room, grabbing her office supplies, and comes across a folded piece of paper with her name scrawled in the messy, teenaged scrawl she could never seem to forget on the front _._

“God,” she murmurs, putting down her pens and grabbing the letter, tracing the letters on the front of the page reverently. It’s not like she doesn’t talk to Dave Rygalski. Rory calls him 'her Pennilyn Lott'. She told Lane about her grandfather getting together with his ex once every year to check in, see how she was doing. It wasn’t romantic, it was nostalgic, as Rory had put it. Her grandmother hadn’t seen it that way when she found out about these meeting many years later. So, when Lane had told Rory that Dave had come back the next summer and asked to get together to catch up, Rory told her the story of Pennilyn Lott.

Lane saw him anyway. As long as Zack didn’t know, no harm done, right?

And he didn’t. Zack never knew. Every month after that next summer, she and Dave had phone calls, quiet diner visits in the middle of the night in Hartford when he’d return home during breaks in college. They’d walk around the quiet town of Stars Hollow for hours as the moon shone down on them, talking about what they had done in the last year. Dave had never gotten into another band, choosing to play solo in California. He felt like Hep Alien, like Lane, those were his bandmates, and he didn’t feel right replacing them. But playing hymns for Lane’s mom had inspired him to study his own religion further, so he went to temple and studied the Torah. Dave made a joke that Mrs. Kim would never forgive him, a defective Christian. Lane laughed quietly in the soft blanket of night in Stars Hollow, Connecticut and said, “As long as you love God, I think my mom will love you either way.” He hid his small smile into his shoulder and murmured, “I hope so. I think my default mode is always set to impress your mother. And you.”

So, they never really got over the flirting aspect of their relationship. What Zack doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Lane unfolds the letter and scans the page, remembering this as the last letter. No wonder she’d hid it in a desk. Lane had decided to break up with Dave in a letter and he had wrote her back; this was that letter. Lane remembers she hadn’t gone into specific detail of why she was doing it, just that it was for the best, the distance was hurting them both, etcetera. Dave was so understanding in this letter, saying he understood her choice and respected all of her decisions. She must’ve said she wanted to stay friends because that was a big theme in his letter, wanting to stay close. He didn’t want to lose Lane completely.

_I’ll take you any way I can have you, Lane Kim._

Her eyes mist over as she keeps reading, wondering how she could’ve ever decided this patient, understanding boy was worth cutting loose. She thinks Dave understood her better than she was willing to admit as she reads on.

_I’m only going to say this here and now and you do not have to respond to it, but: I hope you’re not breaking up with me because it’s easier that way. I’m willing to fight for us. I’m willing to try. I’m willing to do whatever you can handle._

“God, Dave,” Lane chokes out, wiping her tears with her sweater’s sleeve, making sure the tears don’t stain the paper. But it’s when Lane reads the closing of the letter that four years of mistakes come rushing back.

 _Always yours,  
_ _Dave_

Always yours. Lane lets out an unsteady breath and carefully folds the letter back up. She puts it in her suitcase in a safe pocket and continues packing as a plan forms and spreads in her brain like a forest fire. She realizes very suddenly what she needs to do, what she should’ve done four years ago. She packs all her bags in her shitty forest green Jeep, leaves some things behind in favor for her drum set and her tom-toms, and goes back into the apartment to write a note to Brian and Gil. Hopefully, they’ll understand why this had to happen. They also witnessed Zack’s unkindness and uncontrollable jealousy when it came to Lane; it had nearly torn heir band apart more times than any of them could count. The two boys were casualties in a war Lane had started when she realized she had feelings for a man who would hurt her music and her heart, and she was the only one who could end it. This is about music. This is about her own dreams. This is about forging a new path. She tells the two men to call her. She desperately hopes they do.

Lane puts the note up on the fridge and takes a last look into the bedroom she shared with Zack, knowing she’d never see it again. She leaves a kiss on the doorframe; for all the pain he caused her, the love they shared was real. She wasn’t sure she’d miss it, or even Zack in general, but she did, in fact, love him.

“Goodbye, boys. Goodbye, Lane Van Gerbig.” It's a little dramatic, but as those words echo in this home built for some music, some love but not for hers, she gains the strength to leave that life behind.

\--

Standing on the stoop of Kim’s Antiques, Lane is overcome with a myriad of emotions. She’d cried because her mother wouldn’t let her call Rory here. She’d kissed Dave here. She’d watched the town she was going to leave tomorrow fly by here. She’d watched her dad walk through the fence’s gate and never come back here. She’d grown up here.

And she’s still growing. She takes a deep breath, adjusts her suitcase on her shoulder, and rings the doorbell. _Now or never, Kim._

Lane waits. Thirty seconds later, the hall light comes on. Lane closes her eyes briefly and sighs. She hears her mother undoing the lock, muttering in Korean. _So rude, do people know the time…_

She swings the door open and Lane is faced with Mrs. Kim, in all her glory.

Her mother’s eyebrows soften at the sight of her daughter at her doorstep for the first time in over a year. They raise imperceptibly, barely noticeable to someone who did not grow up training to tell when this woman felt something. But Lane did, and Mrs. Kim is shocked. Very shocked, in fact, to see her daughter at her door.

“Hello, Lane.”

“Hello, mama.” Lane smiles and tries not to make it the manic, over-compensated smile she gave her mother her whole childhood.

“Come in, you’re letting the cold inside.” Her mother opens the door wider and ushers Lane inside, shutting it immediately behind her. “Hang up your coat, leave your bag by the stairs.” Lane fulfills both of those orders quickly and quietly.

“I like the new coat rack.”

“Ah, yes, your cousin Soon Yi gave that to us--to me for Christmas this year. Good gift, good girl. She’s grown up nicely, married nice Korean boy. He is in graduate school to become doctor. Very smart boy.” Lane breaks eye contact and looks at her feet, nodding. She always felt guilty that she’d never fall in love with a boy her mother wanted.

“Good, mama.” There was a long pause as they stood in the foyer.

“Come to the kitchen.” Lane follows her mother through the maze of wood and furniture stacked on top of itself until they finally make it to the kitchen. Mrs. Kim begins making tea, almost out of habit, ritualistically, and asks, “Are you hungry? Soy scone?” Lane is surprised she asked instead of ordering her to get them out. Maybe her mother had broken some of her habits after all.

“No, thank you, mama.” Lane gives a small smile to her mother’s turned back.

“Okay.” They don’t speak for a few minutes as Mrs. Kim makes the tea. She brings the cups to the small kitchen table that still had only two chairs sitting at it. Mrs. Kim takes her seat and blows on her tea, steam rising in her face. No one speaks. Lane knows she’s going to be the one to break the silence, but she really doesn’t know how to do so.

“I need a jug, mama. Something plain, like a milk jug. Something special.” Mrs. Kim looks at Lane and pauses, then nods once.

“I saw this coming.” _Oh, no. She knows. Of course she knows, she always knows. How does she even remember?_

“It’s not for who you think. Um, Zack asked me to marry him tonight. At the diner. It’s probably all over town by now, Miss Patty was there and everything. You were probably already in bed, though. Um, mama?” Mrs. Kim looks up through eyelashes, taking a sip of tea. Lane puts her cup down and takes a breath. “I said no.”

Mrs. Kim pauses again. She closes her eyes briefly, smiles behind her tea just for a moment, and then puts her cup down. “Okay.”

“Really? That’s okay?” Lane may be 23 years old, but she still craves her mother’s good graces. She hasn’t seen her in so long, but being back here has amplified that need more than she remembers. It's almost suffocating.

“Yes, Lane. That is very okay.” Lane smiles at her mother.

“Good. Well, uh, I do want the jug. For someone else.” Her mother frowns.

“Have you been unfaithful, Lane? You know that is not--”

“No, mama. Definitely not. The person I want to give it to isn’t even on this side of the country.” Her mother tilts her head minutely.

“Well, are you going to tell me who?” Lane feels her breath catch a bit.

“You want to know?”

“Of course. I am your mother.” Mrs. Kim tilts her chin up almost defiantly. Lane smiles again, this time wider.

“Yeah, you are. Um, do you remember Dave? Dave Rygalski?” Her mother picks up her tea again and sips through a smile that doesn’t fade.

“Ah, David. Nice boy. Is he still playing those hymns on the guitar? Very talented boy, good sight reader,” Mrs. Kim says with conviction. _What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?_

“Yeah, he’s still playing, mama. He is talented, isn’t he?” Lane smiles down at her dark tea, cupping her hands around the porcelain, hands soaking up the warmth.

“Why him?” Lane looks up abruptly.

“What?”

“Why David and not Zachary?” Lane pauses.

“Oh. Well. I don’t love Zack or the life I had with him like I loved the one I had with Dave. He and I still talk, and I feel… good... when I talk to him. I feel like the kind of person that I could be proud to be someday. I made music with him and about him that I couldn’t recreate with anyone else, not even Zack,” Lane says. The longer she talks, the more animated she gets, talking with her hands, spilling a bit of tea on her sleeve. She gets more confident with every word. “I didn’t want to be Lane Van Gerbig, mama. I never really did. I don’t want to have his children and I don’t want to be his wife in Stars Hollow. I want to get out of Stars Hollow, I want to explore the world, I want to find a new home, and I want to do it with Dave.”

“And David wants this with you?” Lane deflates as quickly as the confidence came.

“I–I don’t know, mama.” She nods, puts the tea down and leaves the room. Lane looks around, confused. “Mama?” She calls out. No answer. A minute later, her mother comes in with a nondescript, labeless milk jug and sets it down in next to Lane.

“There is only one way to find out. Go to him. Tell him this. Ask him to be with you. If he is still anything like the boy who came to our home that day and asked to take you to your prom, he will want to. Do not lose hope now, Lane.” Mrs. Kim slowly reaches her hand out towards Lane’s which is sitting on the table next to her tea. Her fingers gently rest on Lane’s for a moment before pulling away quickly. “Be brave.” Lane smiles up at her mother, big, broad and more genuine than she remembers smiling at her mother in her conscious memory.

“Thank you, mama.”

“Do you need to sleep here tonight? I can set up your bed now.” Mrs. Kim turns around without waiting for an answer and disappears up the stairs. Lane smiles in her wake.

“Thank you, mama,” she repeats, quietly and full of emotion. She closes her eyes and breathes in. The smell of dust, wood and tofu never smelled like home to Lane. But sitting here with a jug, cooling tea and renewed hope, she thinks it's pretty damn close.

\--

When Lane wakes up in her childhood bed, she doesn’t expect to feel safe. Whenever she was in this white-washed room as a teenager, she felt nauseous, constricted, claustrophobic. But as she comes to consciousness and realizes she’s alone, not next to a man she doesn’t want to be with, she feels free. She feels like she could fly.

She takes a shower, changes her clothes and heads downstairs to find… no one. She checks the clock. Ah, right, Sunday morning. Church. Which her mother didn’t wake her for.

Her mother didn’t wake her for church. The enormity of this simple fact is so striking, it sends her reeling.

She looks at the clock: 11:29 AM. Church gets out in 31 minutes; the christians have the church after the jewish service in the springtime. She wanted to get out of Stars Hollow before 1 PM; she supposes that isn’t happening. She changes her clothes, lugs her suitcase downstairs and heads out to wait on the church steps, still a little disbelieving that she’s not inside the building praying.

Mrs. Kim is found standing next to Lane Kim in front of the Stars Hollow Church and Temple at 12:01 PM. She waits until everyone has dispersed before speaking.

“Let’s go.” Lane gets up and follows her. On the way, she says “nice day” and “good service.” Lane responds “it is” and “that’s nice” to each. When they return home, Mrs. Kim opens the door for her, to which there is a polite exchange. They go inside and into the kitchen.

And then she asks the hardest question yet.

“Lane, are you coming back?” It’s like a bullet to the chest. She can’t breathe. All the air has been sucked out of her mother’s home.

“Not for a while, mama, no. But eventually.” Mrs. Kim nods.

“Okay.” She looks away. Pauses. Then looks back. “But you’ll call?”

“Oh, of course, mama. Of course I’ll call. I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving Stars Hollow and the memory of Zack I see everywhere I turn.”

“Alright. That’s all I wanted to know. Do you have anything to ask me before you leave?” Wow. _Yes, a thousand things._

“Has dad ever called?” Mrs. Kim doesn’t even react. It’s like Lane never even asked, like he never even existed. She’s thought it before, but she remembers how deeply strong her mother is. Anyone could learn from the strength her mother is rooted in.

“No, your father has never called.”

“Would you have told me if he did?” She pauses again.

“Probably not.” Lane nods.

“I have one more question.” Mrs Kim nods once. “Did... Did you like Dave?” It comes out much smaller and more scared than she’d have liked it to. Her mother looks almost soft for a moment. It’s the most human either of them have ever been at the same time.

“Yes, Lane. I liked David very much.”

“Then why did you pull the stunt with the jug?” Her mother frowns.

“Because I needed you to realize that marriage was very real future for you that David was part of.” Lane huffs.

“I guess. But we were 18!”

“I got married to your father when I was 20. Very sensible. When you find the right man, you marry him. That is the way our culture is, Lane. That is why I am telling you to go to David. If he is the right man, give him the jug. It is simple.” And when her mother says it, it does seem simple.

“Okay, mama. I will.” Her mother gives her a curt nod and stands up. Lane scrambles to stand up with her. Mrs. Kim leans in to give her a hug that Lane barely has time to react to. She looks at her daughter, quietly says the words she’d only heard enough times to count on one hand, and leaves the room.

“I love you.”

\--

The bell rings as Lane opens the door to Luke’s and everyone turns to look at her. It falls deadly silent in the diner. Lane forces herself not to roll her eyes. _Mama taught you better, Lane, mama taught you better…_ It truly does take a village.

“Okay, everybody out,” Luke calls out from behind the counter. Nobody moves. “Well? Go! We’re closed!”

“But it’s,” Kirk glances at his watch. “1:47 PM.”

“So? It’s my diner and I say it’s _closed._  Now, _go_.” Everyone immediately tumbles out of their seats and flies out the door, but not before giving Lane a forlorn look. Lane gives them all forced smiles.

Well, everyone but Kirk.

“Kirk, I said go.” Kirk hesitates.

“But Lulu’s mad at me.” Luke sighs and looks at Lane. He raises his arms in question. She shakes her head despairingly.

“Kirk, please. This is important. Go to Weston’s and get a bagel or something.” Kirk hums.

“Now, that’s an idea,” he murmurs. He slips off the stool at the counter and meanders out the door, mumbling about lox. Lane softly laughs at him once he’s out of earshot.

“I’ll miss this weird, weird town, in a twisted sort of way,” Lane muses.

“So, you’re… you’re leaving?” Luke asks, tenderly, trying not to ruffle Lane’s feathers. The poor man thinks he can ruffle her feathers; Lane doesn’t even think that’s possible at this point. It’s a sweet gesture all the same.

“Yeah. Said goodbye to my mom and everything. My jeep’s all packed. You’re my last stop.”

“I’m honored,” he says, deadpan, but Lane knows he is.

“You should be.”

“So, I guess I have to find a new waitress.” Lane shrugs, raising her arms.

“Suppose so.” Luke takes a few steps closer, putting his arms out.

“C’mere, kid.” Lane immediately steps into his embrace and it feels safer than every hug her dad gave her as a kid did combined.

“I’ll miss you so much, Luke,” she mumbles into his ever-present plaid shirt. “Tell April I win the bagel hockey war because I left town.”

“Oh, I bet she’ll have an novel’s-worth to say about that.”

“Give me a call and let me know what she says.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise to the point where they’re almost touching his cap and Lane rolls her eyes.

“Luke, you’re not just the town dad, but you were more of a dad to me than my own father was. You know he walked out when I was 12, so…” Luke blushes.

“Town dad…” he mumbles.

“It’s more right than you want to believe. Look at Rory. Look at Jess. April. You take kids in. You make a home out of this place. You let yourself and this diner be a home to wayward kids without a good dad, or any dad, or the right dad. You make an incredible father to April, Luke. You saved Jess. I know he knows it. Just–” Lane claps a hand over his shoulder. “Cut yourself a little slack, accept that you’re a good guy, and you’ll be golden.” Luke grins, small and sheepishly, and ducks his head.

“You too, you know. I wanted to kill Zack for proposing to you like that. You deserve better. You deserve someone who’s gonna make it special. I hope you find that person.” Lane thinks of all the music that played in her head when Dave kissed her for the first time and smiles.

“I’m on my way to find him.” Luke smiles and it’s so genuine and prideful that Lane can’t help but think, _yeah, I’ll be back someday._

Lane leaves Luke’s Diner for the last time in a long time, gets in her Jeep and drives.

\--

 _Scary moment, lovin' every moment  
_ _I was high from playing shows_

It’s Lane’s first time past the east coast and she’s… well, she’s freaking out. She wants to call Rory, her mother, even Dave, anyone to make this feeling of enormity as she passes the blue state sign for Iowa. Iowa! Who that she cares about lives in Iowa? The Everly Brothers. That’s it. No one else of importance has ever made it out of Iowa alive, and neither will Lane Kim.

She could deal with paying for hotel rooms and getting weird looks from racist motel workers in Illinois. She could deal with toll workers blowing cigarette smoke in her face while she tries to find correct change. But, Iowa? This is truly the final straw for Lane.

She fiddles with the antenna on her cell phone, pulling it up and down, glad she splurged for that deal for unlimited long distance minutes for the month while she passed through Hartford on her way out to the Interstate.

Lane pulls over and thinks of the people she could call. She wishes she could see if Dave is around, but she worries she’ll spill the beans that she’s on her way to him. She’s worried most of all that he’d send her home. There’s no home to go to. So, she send out a page to the person she thinks could most get her back on the road: Lorelai Gilmore. **SOS IOWA SCARY**. Lane closes her eyes for the duration of I’m A Cuckoo by Belle  & Sebastian. As it fades out, her phone rings, and Lane thanks God for Lorelai’s timing.

 _There's something wrong with me  
_ _I'm a cuckoo..._

“Hello?” Lane’s voice is vibrating with anxiety and raw from disuse when she picks up the phone. She doesn’t even bother clearing her throat; Lorelai’s seen her worse.

“Lane, honey, are you okay? Iowa? That certainly is scary.” Lane feels some of the tension seep out of her body at the sound of Lorelai’s voice.

“Hi, Lorelai,” Lane says, and her voice is small and scared. She sighs. “I’m okay. Has word got out around town?”

“I suppose it hasn’t. All we know is that you and Zack are… well, are you officially broken up now? That was a pretty public failed proposal from what I heard. Can’t believe the one time I’m not at Luke’s is the chance I miss to see the show of a lifetime.” Lane chuckles a bit darkly.

“Yeah, pretty public is a way to put it. I thought it was so obvious that I didn’t love him the way I was supposed to, Lorelai. I thought everyone knew. I couldn’t keep my distaste for him inside of me most of the time.” Lorelai lets out a sympathetic groan. “He was so… mean to me. You know? Like, it’s not like he’s the only boy I’ve ever dated; I’ve dated a nice boy, I know what it feels like to be treated kindly by a boy who cares about you.” Lane lets out a frustrated sigh. Lorelai tuts.

“You don’t think Zack cares about you?” Lane makes a noncommittal noise.

“He does. I know he does. But he thought I was a sure thing. He thought I could do anything and I would stay with him, no matter what. I barely wanted to stay when I was happy, you know? I wanted to get as far away from this place as I could; in high school, I wanted to take my drumsticks, my CDs, Rory, and run.” Lorelai hums.

“I know the feeling, kid. I know that feeling so desperately. And it sounds like you did. SOS, Iowa scary?” Lane laughs.

“Yeah. I’m on the side of the road just inside the stateline of Iowa in my Jeep with everything I own inside of it,” Lane says, and just saying out loud makes it a little less scary. Lorelai lets out a surprised cheer.

“Lane! Congrats! What’s the destination?”

“Berkeley, California,” Lane lets out in a rush, like a secret she’s been holding for years.

“Berkeley, wow. What’s in Berkeley?” Lane smiles.

“A boy. Do you remember Dave? That guy I was seeing secretly in high school?” Lorelai snorts.

“Lane, how could I forget? I remember when you first met that boy; you told him you loved him and he was _charmed by it_. He played guitar that Thanksgiving for five hours. Did the boy even eat that day?” Lane laughs out loud.

“God, I don’t remember. My mom did send him home with a pile of tofurkey though.” Lorelai groans at the mere memory of that Thanksgiving.

“Not the tofurkey, Lane. Anything but that, please. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” They both laugh.

“At least you didn’t live with it for 20 years.” Lorelai hums in sympathy.

“Hey, did Rory ever tell you that when you guys went off to listen to some music the day you met, she said to Dean and I, ‘I think there’s a love song in their future’?” Lane grins so wide her eyes close.

“No, she didn’t.” There’s a bit of a pause. “I think there still might be.”

“Hey, honey. I know you’re excited about the trip, but I just want to make sure you’re leaving for you and not for Dave. You are, right?” Lane stops moving completely and thinks hard, pauses for a good ten seconds. Lorelai lets her have the silence and Lane is grateful.

“I think so. I mean, I can’t be in Stars Hollow right now, not with that public of a failed proposal and Zack still living there. And, I mean, Lorelai, I always wanted to get out. You know that. I hid maps in my floor. This is just a great excuse and a good a place as any to run to.”

“Mmm. Lane, you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, and I know a thing or two about not marrying the person everyone says you should. Escape is my middle name. I, of all people, am all for this. Does Mrs. Kim know?” Lane nods.

“She does and she’s for it.”

“Good, honey. Good,” Lorelai says, and she has a smile in her voice. “Well, I have to get back to work and you have to go get your boy.” Lane feels the last inch of tension seep out of her.

“Yeah, I do. Hey, Lorelai?” Lorelai hums. “Could you not tell Rory? I’ll tell her in my own time. Soon, I promise, but I’ll tell her.”

“Alright, Lane. Whatever you need. I love you so much, girlie. You drive safe and page me when you get there that you’re safe. We don’t need to talk, I’d just like to know that you’re okay.”

“Sounds good, Lorelai. I love you, too.”

“Bye, honey.” Lane hangs up, takes a sip of water and looks out beyond the guardrail. She sees two deer grazing in a meadow; they are oblivious and unafraid. One of them looks up and makes eye contact with Lane. Lane smiles, puts on her blinker, and takes every ounce of strength she has to pull out onto the road.

She does.

\--

Lane’s in Colorado, on the edge of sleep at a truck stop, when she gets the call. She really should’ve looked at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Lane. It’s, uh, Zack.” And her blood runs cold. She sits up ramrod straight in the car in the moment it takes her to realize what’s happening.

“Hi.”

“How… are you?”

“I’m fine, Zack.” Lane wishes she knew how to navigate this conversation.

“Um, you left some of your stuff here. I brought it to your mom’s. Well, Brian did. I didn’t have enough room in Delilah.” Delilah. The sports car he insisted on buying instead of saving for something more sensible.

“Thank him for me please.”

“I will. Um. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Lane’s eyes bulge out of her head.

“You _what_?” He laughs humorously.

“Yeah. Shocker, right? I realized I shouldn’t have asked you to marry me with a crappy ring after a fight in front of the whole town while you were working. Big props to me, I should get a round of applause,” Zack says, and he sounds so self-deprecating that the years and years Lane spent loving him kick in like an impulse.

“It’s okay, Zack.”

“No, it’s not," he says, and Lane gives a humorless laugh of her own. He's right; it's not. He ignores her and continues talking. "You’re too nice to me. You always were. You cut me so much slack. I’m never gonna find another girl who’s gonna cut me as much slack as you did,” Zack says, almost whining, and Lane sees where this is going. Zack is trying to make her feel guilty for leaving him, even subconsciously. He's trying to get her to make him feel better. He may not even realize that’s what he’s doing. But Lane is not going to regret this. She’s not going to regret loving herself. Lane takes a breath as she figures out what she wants to say.

“Zack, my advice is to learn from this. The next girl shouldn’t need to cut you slack. She won’t have to because you’re gonna treat her better. I know you can. You didn’t treat me right. I left. It sucks, it really sucks, but that’s the reality. I don’t want you to call me again after this. I don’t want you to talk to my mother or to Rory about me when she comes home.”

“But--”

“Zack, don’t interrupt me.” Lane hears him suck in a breath. She always used to let him interrupt her. It was one of her biggest pet peeves about him but she just let him do it. Lane never once did it to him. “Zack, I’m not coming back. Not for you. If I come back, it will be to see my mother and that will be all. I’m done with you. I don’t have to sit here and dictate every horrible thing you did to me just to validate my leaving you. It is valid. You know it is. And I will not lower myself to telling you that it is okay that you were horrible to me. It wasn’t okay, Zack, and you know that. You should’ve seen this coming a mile away. The whole town should’ve, you weren’t quiet with your flaws,” Lane says, voice fully risen to a shout. She can imagine him wincing at her harsh words and even though it doesn’t please her, she knows one day it will. “If you call or text again, I’m going to block your number. I hope you are well in the future, Zack, I really do. Be happy, treat others better, and learn.”

“Lane--”

“What, Zack?” And Lane is finished. She's beyond finished with this man.

“I’m sorry. I hope Dave treats you better than I did.”

“He will,” Lane spits, with so much conviction and certainty that she herself can’t even help but believe it. “Goodbye.”

And with that, Zack Van Gerbig is gone and Lane vows to never go back.

\--

Lane doesn’t have another conscious thought, just puts in CD after CD and follows the I-80 in front of her, until she sees _Welcome to California_ on a now familiar blue state sign and three white poppies. That’s when she remembers Zach spitting out angrily at age 18,  _why did Dave go to school in California? That state is nothing but hippies and burn-outs._ She had noncommittally nodded with him at the time, thinking how much she wished she could’ve followed him to UC Berkeley because it was Anywhere But Here, USA.

Lane’s heart begins beating wildly in her chest because she realizes, _damn_ , she did it. She got out. She isn’t just on tour with the promise of going home. Home always meant Stars Hollow, and to Lane, home was never a place. She’d found home in Rory’s boombox, gifted to her when Rory left for Yale and now covered in bubble wrap in the back of her car. Home in her own stupid, ancient pager. Home in her Metric vinyl, also wrapped in bubble wrap along with the rest of her records buckled snugly in the backseat. Home in the Belle & Sebastian shirt Dave gave to her before he left for the state she’s currently driving through. The heart he’d drawn on the label in sharpie is faded but still visible.

The only place she ever really felt safe was Rory’s room, but even that was… Rory’s. It wasn’t Lane’s. There were hundreds of books that Lane had not only not read, but never heard of. There were knick-knacks from Lorelai, presents from boyfriends, things from Chilton; when Rory changed schools, their lives diverged in ways that could never be mended again. Lane thinks of pulling over and paging her. It would be so nice to hear from her, to tell her they both got out of that tiny town they both dreamt of one day escaping. Lane had maps hidden in the floorboards in her closet, red pen marking the routes she’d take one day. Now, they were all in her car beside her.

Lane looks over and sees the red pen marking the route to take that she’d made before she left Stars Hollow. She had looked up the best route at the library and had gotten the red pen idea from Lorelai at age 14. Lorelai had told Lane and Rory about her and Christopher planning all of these road trips they never got the chance to tkae. Lorelai wanted to make sure Lane and Rory never missed out on anything they wanted to do. Lorelai was, and still is, a very good second mom.

Lane checks the map and sees that she has about 5 hours to go. She’s been driving on Interstate 80 for almost 40 hours, and that’s without counting the hours she slept at seedy motels or at truck stops locked in her car. She can only imagine her mother’s disastrous meltdown if she found out where Lane has been sleeping. She’s running out of money and is wholeheartedly ignore the fact that Dave might shut the door in her face and tell her to go home. Or, worse, pity her. She doesn’t think she could take that.

She figures it’s not smart to dwell on it until she sees him. She still talks to him monthly, and he’s always friendly, happy to talk to her and genuinely wants to see her succeed. Sometimes, he even calls her out of the blue, just to talk to her about a new album that’s come out. Their most recent talk was gushing about Metric’s newest record. Dave was partial to Monster Hospital while Lane was more into Poster of a Girl. They had a long, drawn-out argument about lyrics and beats that ended with them laughing hard.

Lane smiles. She doesn’t think the door will shut in her face.

She drives.

\--

Apartment 206. Even though she had already walked over to the door, she walks back to the run-down elevator to make sure that she’s at the right level. Yep, that’s it! Level two. She counts her steps on the way back. 18. She takes three deep breaths before pulling out the piece of paper that she cut up before leaving home with Dave’s address on it. She had sent him a package: a rare Ramones vinyl that she’d found in the city with Rory that she knew he’d lose his mind over. It’s the right address. 3,000 miles; she made it. Lane slaps herself in the face a few times, stuffs the paper back in her pocket and knocks on the door three times. She backs up and waits. She hears shuffling on the other side of the concrete door. _Oh, god._

She bolts.

Lane rounds the corner just as the door opens.

“Hello? Anyone out here?” And when Lane hears his voice, a calm washes through her. It’s Dave. What is she doing? It’s just Dave. She peeks her head around the corner and sees him a few moments before he sees her. Those few seconds are all she needs to know that she’s made the right decision. He’s wearing a button-down with the first few buttons undone, sweatpants and fuzzy socks. His hair’s a mess, like he had come home from work and immediately changed his clothes and taken a nap. Dave had always had a penchant for naps. He looks like a safe place to hide. He always did. She rounds the corner.

“Hi, Dave,” Lane lets out meekly, waving one hand. His head whips her way and physically stumbles back into his doorway at the sight of her, letting out a shocked, sharp laugh.

“Lane.” He, almost as an unconscious action, reaches a hand up and tries to fix his hair. The motion is so familiar and endearing that she smiles at him, warmly, fondly. He returns it. He reaches that hand out to her. “Come here, I want to get a good look at you.” She laughs and slowly walks over to him.

“Nothing’s different!” Lane lets out a delighted laugh at the attention. She hasn’t been paid attention to like this in a long, long time.

“Come on, give me a spin!” Dave takes her hand and spins her in the hallway of his apartment complex. If you told her this is what she’d be doing this time last week, she’d have laughed in a much different way than she is right now.

“The only thing that’s really different is the, uh,” she lets go of his hand to point at her eyes.

“Where’d they go?”

“Contacts.”

“I miss the specs! You still use them?”

“Have them with me, not on me. My, uh… someone said they didn’t like them, so I figured a change was in order.” Dave tilts his head, smile sad, and tuts. He touches his thumb to the skin at the corner of her eye. Lane feels all of the skin on her body heat up, just at the tiny point of contact.

“Silly. Beautiful either way,” he says, quietly. Lane blushes, smiles, and looks down. Dave blushes, but doesn’t look away. He moves his hand to the center of her spine. “Come on, come inside.” He ushers her into his apartment and shuts the door. She hesitates in the doorway, looking trepidatious, before coming all the way inside.

“Are you… sure? I don’t mean to intrude. I don’t even know if you have plans. You look, um, comfortable. Were you sleeping?” Dave looks at her incredulously.

“Lane. Do you honestly think I’d rather go back to napping than be with my close friend who I haven’t seen over a year? You’re out of your mind. Do you want to get comfortable? Did you fly? Were you driving?” He flutters around her, not touching her, but looking like he wants to, wants to make sure she’s safe and take care of her. Lane is two yawns away from letting him take the wheel. She hasn’t slept in 20 hours and she’s exhausted, emotionally and physically.

“Well, I think I might want to nap. It’s been a long time since I slept. Wanted to get to Berkeley and get off the road.” He nods and after she starts to close her eyes while standing up, he moves into action.

“You still have the Jeep, yeah? Hand me your keys and I’ll go get your bags. You go take a shower while I do, towels are clean and on the rack. You still like to shower before sleeping, right?” Lane nods and smiles, eyes half closed. She's sure she looks dopey, but she can't bring herself to care. She takes a moment to have a swell of fondness because he remembers that about her after all these years. “I’ll leave some pajamas for you outside the bathroom door, you grab them when you finish.” Lane fishes her keys out of her pocket and hands them to him. He starts to head for the door, but Lane’s voice stops him.

“Dave?” He turns back to her and cocks his head. He is everything she hoped he’d still be, and worth driving 3,021 miles to get to. She walks to him and throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his hair. “I missed you.”

Dave’s tense body seems to relax at her touch as he lets out a breath and wraps himself around her. “Hey. I missed you back, Lane.”

\--

Lane wakes up the first time to the pitch black and Dave pushing a strand of hair back in place that fell from the twin braids she made after her shower. He keeps his hand on her face, cradling her cheek, and sweeps his thumb over her cheekbone. He whispers, “Lane? Lane, hon, can you wake up? I gotta talk to you.”

In her sleep-laden state, she leans further into his hand and starts to open her eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, quietly and voice filled with fondness. When her eyes open fully, she sees his face, even though his back is to the alarm. He is backlit by the red glow of the clock and the faint ambient light of the city through the closed curtains, his smile gentle and eyes soft.

“Wha’ddya needa talk about, Davey?” He sweeps his thumb hypnotizingly back and forth across her cheek, and she starts to close her eyes again at the soothing motion.

“Couldn’t sleep. Been worried about you,” he says, voice still sweet and kind. Lane screws her eyebrows in, eyes still closed, and shakes her head. She puts her hand on his so as not to dislodge it from her cheek, and cuddles closer to his body so her hand is on his chest and their faces are closer.

“No, no, Davey, I’m just fine now, sleeping with you.” She’s halfway to sleep when he says, quietly into the night.

“When I saw you at my door, I was so scared, Lane. I was terrified," he says, and he sounds wrecked. Lane opens her eyes to look at him but he's focused on the wall behind her. "Did something happen with your mom, Lane? I know you haven’t been talking with her. Is she sick?” Lane hums.

“Mom’s great. Gave me a gift for you. S’a secret, though.” Dave smiles and Lane smiles back, closing her eyes again. “Zack asked me to marry him.” Dave’s whole body tenses under Lane’s palm and his thumb abruptly stops in its tracks. Lane frowns at that. She doesn’t start talking until he starts touching her again. “I said no.” He lets out a breath, and it fans over her face, still a bit minty from when he’d brushed his teeth a few hours earlier, obviously immensely relieved and still wholly confused.

“Zack proposed,” Dave says, almost a question, like he can’t believe he’s even saying it.

“Horribly,” Lane says, wrinkling her nose. He chokes down a laugh.

“Horribly?” She nods, slower this time, less sleep stupid now from the seriousness of the conversation.

“He got a terrible, cheap ring and came to the diner while I was working after one of our fights and did it in front of everyone in Stars Hollow. I thought Luke was going to kill him.” Dave hums.

“I bet. Not the great and magical romance one expects for Lane Kim,” he says, as if it's fact, and Lane’s face screws in again in obvious distaste.

“No one thinks I deserve a magical romance, Dave, don’t be stupid.”

“Mm, Rory does. I bet she wasn’t happy.” Lane’s face relaxes and she shrugs.

“That’s true,” she relents.

“And me,” he admits quietly. “I think you deserve the world.” It’s an admission one could only tell in the dark or in writing. He’d told her this once after she’d broken his heart three years ago and she does all she can to hide her shock that he still believes the same now.

“Yeah?” she asks, a bit vulnerable in her tired state. Dave’s hand softly comes to tug at the wrist that’s resting in the middle of his chest. He places her open palm against his racing, bleeding heart. Lane imagines it split-wide open, ripped out of his chest by Dave himself and placed in Lane’s waiting hand. It’s going faster than she could’ve ever imagined for the situation at hand. Lane can only place blame to either their proximity or the topic of conversation.

“Yeah.” Lane curls forwards, gaining courage from the steady, frantic beat and takes the plunge. She rests her forehead against his and twines their cold feet together. She’s on the edge of sleep again when she feels Dave ask her a question more than hears him.

“Lane?” She hums softly. “Why did you say no?”

There is no pause, no waiting before she answers him; she knows the answer with all of herself, knows it better than she knows anything else.

“I didn’t love him.”

\--

Lane wakes up the second time to light streaming in the windows and the sound of acoustic guitar and soft singing somewhere in the apartment, comfortable and at peace. She rolls over to Dave’s side of the bed to check the alarm clock on the night stand: 11:45 AM. She realizes she doesn’t have any responsibilities; she doesn’t have to wake up early and cook for roommates or hungry Stars Hollow townsfolk. Her life had become waking up for other people. Now, she wakes up for herself. And, she supposes, for Dave, if they both choose that future.

She slips her glasses on that are on the bedside table next to the alarm clock, deciding to forgo the awful ritual of contacts. She pulls her socks on when she crawls to the bottom of the bed, as she does every morning. She climbs out of bed and pulls the mouthwash out of her bag. She washes her mouth out in the kitchen sink before quietly padding over to the bathroom where its door is cracked open. She sits down outside it, trying to see if she can figure out what Dave is playing from inside. When she doesn’t recognize it, she sticks her hand in the room and wiggles her fingers. The song changes to the opening riff to Man Who Sold the World and they both laugh. Of course they both remember their past. How could they forget it?

Lane gets on all fours and peeks her head into the bathroom to see Dave sitting on the floor with the same guitar he’s had since she met him in his lap, leaning against the wall with his legs out and crossed in front of him. The only thing different about the guitar from the last time Lane saw it is that now there is one sticker on the body; the Hep Alien logo that Jess had drawn up when they’d finally picked a name. Lane had insisted on stickers and had given one to Dave before he left for UC Berkeley. She told him he was always going to be a part of the band and he needed all the band merch.

He’s wearing different pajama pants than he was last night. His hair is wet and hanging in his face a bit and he isn’t wearing a shirt. Lane understands; it’s muggy in the bathroom, considering he showered, especially with the door closed. The light is streaming in through the sheer white curtains and catches the color in his eyes. Lane can’t look away; she doesn’t care about the planes of his chest or his hands on the frets or his abs or the miles and miles of skin. She just wants to count how many flecks of gold are in each of his eyes. She thinks she’d be a rich woman if she could cash them in. However, she feels pretty rich with the smile he gives her as she lets her body fall against the bathroom sink across from him.

“What song were you playing? Before Bowie. I didn’t recognize it,” Lane says, quietly. She feels like saying anything loudly in this small, porcelain room would be a wound.

“Oh, um,” Dave begins stuttering. His eyes break from their hold on Lane’s. He looks shifty.

“Come on, Dave. We’re past embarrassment. You’ve eaten eggless egg salad and pretended it was delicious in front of me.” Dave lets out a squawk of indignation.

“No way, missy. I saw your face when I was charming your mom that day. You looked about ready to jump me, and not in a bad way.” Lane blushes a fierce red, but rolls her eyes.

“You wish.” He smirks.

“Mm.” He tips his head back against the wall, his throat a long, clean line. He looks at her and his smirk deepens. “Maybe.” She gives him a look, desperately fighting to seem disaffected.

“Tell me.” He sighs.

“It’s Yellowcard.” Lane laughs so hard she snorts. She covers her face with her hands.

“You were trying to be sexy to distract me from _Yellowcard_? I didn’t know you were still a freshman in high school! Where’s your Ninja Turtles backpack?” Dave groans as he shoves her in the thigh with his foot while she laughs, jostling both of them.

“Come on, Lane. You like Bjork!” Lane squawks.

“Hey! She is a national treasure, and that was told to you in _secret_!”

“Not our nation! And who’s gonna tell on you, my bath mat?” They laugh together and it sounds better than any song she ever played live with Zack. “Do you think the cat can hear you?”

Lane groans. “God, Mittens is still here?”

Dave throws his arms up. “What am I gonna do with her?”

“Adoption, Dave, I told you like five months ago when you found the thing! She wasn’t yours to begin with! She was left by your next door neighbor when you moved out senior year, that’s not your problem, especially when you’re this allergic. She lives in her own _room_ , Dave,” Lane chides, voice light.

“She’s mine now. Can’t live with her, can’t live without her.” Lane rolls her eyes.

“Your biggest problem was naming her.”

“Yeah, point taken…” He mumbles.

“I hope you’re at least taking the allergy medication.” He looks up to the sink and hangs his hand guiltily.

“Not in a couple of days; I’m bad at remembering to take medication, you know that.” Lane tuts.

“You’re a mess without me,” she says, getting up and grabbing the pack, getting him a glass of water. She lets him take the pills it before putting it back. Their legs tangle together when she sits back down and she has to hide a smile in her shoulder. She obviously didn't hide it very well though because when she looks back at Dave, his face is impossibly soft and he looks like he has so much to say. He stays silent. Suddenly, the silence in the room is suppressive and she rushes to fill it.

“Hey, you were singing before; are your pipes getting some use now?” Dave nods.

“Yeah, I’ve been singing more, just screwing around. I’m in the choir at temple, accompanying myself when I play solo, stuff like that.” Lane smiles wide.

“That’s so great, Dave! Let me hear what you were playing!” He blanches.

“Uh, I mean. Are you sure?” Dave begins to fiddle with the extra string coming off the tuning pegs. They must be new strings because he was always good about cutting them off, unlike Zach who would leave them long until they poked someone’s eye out or until one of the strings broke and he had to replace them all again. _Stop thinking about Zach_ , Lane thought, mentally chiding herself. _You left that life behind for a reason._

“I’m sure. I can handle Yellowcard,” she says, smirking teasingly. “Unless you don’t want me to hear it.” Lane looks away, trying not to feel insecure, but it’s hard; they haven’t seen one another in so long, it’s not as easy as she thought it’d be to get back into the smooth rhythm they had as teenagers, invincible and unbroken. She feels safe with him, happy and free, but she’s always left wondering what he’s thinking. He’s in motion at once though, quickly shooting his hand out and resting it on her bare shin. It’s a comforting, chaste and intimate gesture, something Lane has not been on the receiving end of in years.

“No, no, no, Lane, that’s not it. I just…” He looks up towards the ceiling, closes his eyes and sighs. He idly strokes her leg with his thumb. “It’s kind of a love song?”

“I assumed, Dave. It’s Yellowcard.” He laughs quietly.

“Yeah, but… Whatever, it’s fine. I’m just being insecure. I’ll play it.” And he does. His voice is beautiful, singing of the ocean and missing childhood, wishing he could go back to a place and a time and a person he had before.

 _When I sleep, I dream, and it gets me by  
_ _I can make believe that you’re here tonight_

He glances up at Lane and then back down at the frets. Lane lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She places her hand around his ankle that’s hooked over her thigh and Dave smiles while he sings.

_We’re looking up at the same night sky_  
_And keep pretending the sun will not rise_  
_We’ll be together for one more night  
Somewhere, somehow_

Lane can tell by how his hands glide over the guitar and how his voice holds and releases the lyrics that Dave has practiced this song. He has sung this song before, in this bathroom, but without Lane watching him, and suddenly she realizes that’s why. He sang this because Lane wasn’t here. _We’ll be together for one more night somewhere, somehow._ She can see Dave singing this, wondering what Lane is doing, if she is okay, if she’s happy. Lane has never understood, truly known, that someone has had feelings for her before they tell her themselves before, but it’s plainly obvious to her. Dave is laying himself out bare for her right now. He loves her. He’s missed her. He’s glad she’s here.

Lane wants to do this right more than she’s ever wanted anything in her life.

As the last chords fade into the tile, Dave looks up through his eyelashes at her. He looks nervous. Lane just cocks her head at him and smiles serenely.

“That was lovely. You’re…” Lane closes her eyes and shakes her head. When she opens them he’s sitting up, neck straight, looking directly at her. His gaze is inscrutable and setting her on fire.

“I’m what?” _Be brave_ , her mother tells her, 3,000 miles away.

“You’re lovelier.” Dave suddenly looks desperate, eyes wild. His grip tight on his guitar and he’s shaking, like he’s trying as hard as he can to keep still.

“Lane,” he says simply. He sounds wrecked, and that’s all the proof she needs. One word, her name on his tongue, sounding holy and damned all at once, and Lane is sent straight to hell. She quickly untangles their legs and raises herself on her knees, crawling over to him. Somehow, she manages to pry his fingers from the guitar, set it down where she was sitting with as much grace as she can muster in this tension-strung moment, and reel him in by the neck. Right before they collide, she tosses her glasses to the side; they land on the guitar with a hollow thud, and her lips meet his in an explosion of flame and brimstone. It’s everything she was missing with Zack. It’s everything she wondered if kissing could be. It’s everything her mother told her never to do and it’s everything she’s always wanted.

Dave melts immediately, sighing into her mouth and submitting to Lane’s touch. His hands flutter around her before a hand slowly slips into her hair and an arm wraps around her waist. His hands are still shaking, from nerves or from overstimulation, Lane doesn’t know, but it’s sultry, it’s sexy, and it’s a shock to Lane’s system. She wouldn’t have it any other way. The kiss is four years of missing, ignoring, and feeling. They pour everything they’ve both wanted into it: all 3,000 miles they’ve wanted to cross but couldn’t, all the things they couldn’t say during every call, every kiss they’ve shared with someone else and thought of each other during.

Dave’s legs are still out in front of him and Lane is kneeling around them, so she sits on his thighs to get a better angle. She touches his shoulder and when she remembers his shirt has been off, she jolts. She digs her nails in, scratches at the bare skin of his back and tries to pull him closer, tongue slipping into his mouth. Dave lets out a choked-off moan and meets her fully, push for pull, letting her all but shove him back against the bathroom wall. But then, he’s pulling back, their lips making a sinful noise as they separate.

Lane immediately attaches her mouth to his neck, sucking a bruise into where she can feel his blood singing at his pulse point with as much finesse as she can muster up. He curls around her, hands tightening their hold on her, and lets out a sharp breath.

“Lane,” he pants. “Hold on.” Dave tugs on her hair a bit and pulls her up to kiss her chastely one more time before stilling his movements. He's still wrapped around her, but he isn’t moving at all, save for playing with the hair at the base of her neck idly with a slightly unsteady hand. His eyes are still closed, mouth parted and slick with spit, her spit, when Lane opens her eyes. He looks like sin; Lane wants to devour him. When he finally opens his eyes and their gazes meet, the fire cools with the amount of love and kindness in his eyes.

“Hold on, Lane. We just got started,” he says softly, smiling at her in a way Lane can’t read with all the adrenaline rushing around inside of her, so she takes what she fears: _pity_. Her cheeks flame and she tries to escape his hold, has to run, go, _go_ , he doesn’t want her, she read it wrong, this is all her – but Dave just tightens himself around her and pulls her to his chest. “No, no. You’re not leaving. I just got you.”

“But – ”

“Lane, honey, it’s okay. We were just going too fast for the both of us. Let’s just…” He starts to rearrange them so that he is slouching against the wall and she is between his parted legs, cuddled into his chest, hugging his waist with his arms around her. He lets out a small, pleased sigh and kisses the crown of her head when they’re settled. Then, all is quiet.

Suddenly, the last three minutes begin to wash over her. She made out with _Dave Rygalski_. And she _enjoyed_ it. She never enjoyed the intense kissing she and Zack did because Zack would end up getting hard and Lane wouldn’t want anything to do with that. So, he would go shower and take care of himself while Lane would sit and refuse to think. Thinking led to wondering why she was doing this in the first place, and that was a dangerous place to be.

But Dave wants to take their physical relationship slow, not just for her, but for him, too. She’s cuddling with him and he’s soft and pliant in her arms. He seems to be so at peace here, sitting on his bathroom floor, holding her. He called her honey. _Woah._

“You called me honey.” She feels him smile against her hair.

“I did.” A pause. “Is that okay with you?” Lane hums.

“I don’t know, why don’t you do it again?” Dave throws his arms up before settling them gently back around her waist.

“I can’t just call you a name without something to say!”

“You just said a full sentence!” Lane tries to stifle her giggles, mostly unsuccessfully.

“I suppose you’re right, baby.” Lane stops laughing. Her eyes widen and her cheeks heat up. Dave cranes his head to try to get a good look at her. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Oh, my god, you’re trying to get a rise out of me!” Dave starts laughing. “This is not funny! This isn’t genuine pet naming! I have been led on by my ex-boyfriend. I am _hurt_. Broken-hearted, _darling_.” He throws his head back and laughs with his whole body. She presses a kiss to the column of his throat and rests her head on his shoulder. He gathers her impossibly closer.

“You are all of those things to me, Lane. I promise. No foul play here,” he murmurs close to her ear. She nods slowly.

“Same here. I mean, maybe not… no, you’re a sweetheart. Definitely a sweetheart.”

“Am I?”

“Mm.” Lane slowly moves her hand over his hip and strokes her thumb across the skin of his stomach. Dave shivers noticeably under her hands. “Definitely, sweetheart.”

“You’re trouble.”

“Eh. You knew what you were getting into.” He ducks down to kiss her cheek softly, tenderly.

“Definitely, sweetheart.”

\--

Sometime around 5:30 PM, while Dave is making dinner, Lane sends Rory a page that says **BIBLE KISS BIBLE**. Sometime around 5:31 PM, Lane hears her cell phone ring in her suitcase.

“Uh, Dave, I gotta take a call, I’ll be right back.”

“Everything okay?” Dave turns around from the stove, frowning. Lane nods.

“No one bad. I just paged Rory, I’m pretty certain it’s her.” His frown morphs into a smirk.

“Ah. Go, take it. I’ll be here, slaving away for my girl.” Lane flicks her hair behind her shoulder and grabs her phone, walking towards the door.

“It better be done when I get back, servant.” He bows.

“Your wish is my command.” Lane blows him a kiss and exits the apartment. She picks up the phone. “Hey, Ror.”

“Oh. _My_ God.” Lane laughs.

“Yeah.”

“Does this mean…?”

“That I’m in California and staying with Dave and that we made out in his bathroom while he was shirtless? Yeah, it does in fact. That Yale education really – ”

“Oh! _My God!_ Lane! When did you go to California! Move? Did you move? Dave? What about…?” Rory suddenly sounds like she’s treading very lightly, as if she completely forgot that Zach existed. _Wouldn’t that be nice?_

“That’s a story. He proposed.”

“ _Dave?_ ”

“Zack.”

“ _Zack?!_ ”

“Zack.” Rory sounds like she drops something.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He did it after a fight with a shitty ring in the diner while I was working.”

“Classy broad,” Rory says, voice dripping with sarcasm and a hint of anger.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So, you said no?”

“I did.”

“And you left town?”

“I did.”

“How did Mrs. Kim take that?” Lane laughs.

“Surprisingly well. I came clean, told her everything. That I wasn’t in love with Zack, about the proposal before she heard it from Miss Patty or something equally horrible, that I wanted to move away, wanted to be with Dave.” Rory lets out a loud breath.

“Wow, Lane. I’m so proud of you for standing up to her, even if she did take it well. You never know with her.” Lane shrugs, though Rory can’t see it. Rory never fully understood the true level of affection and respect Lane had for her mom, the fact that it wasn’t instilled based on fear, but rather love. She didn’t except Rory to understand it; she was white and lived in a house with a mother who was wholly accepting of all her misgivings. Lane never felt jealous or ill towards Rory for any of it, in fact, she was glad she got Rory’s house in her upbringing to go to when things got too hard at Kim’s Antiques.

“Now that I’m older, it’s easier. She wants me happy less than she wants me married to a Korean doctor,” Lane says. It was never sad to her that her mother wanted to marry her off. Her mother equates physical and financial security with happiness. Lane does not. It just took a long time to convince her mother that’s how she felt.

“Well, good. Now, for the good stuff. How was the kiss?” Lane groaned.

“Rory. It was incredible. My body was on fire. It was like… it was like he already _knew_ how to kiss me. Zack didn’t even know and he got to kiss me for four years! God, _I_ didn’t even know! He wants to take things slow, both for himself and me. That was so sweet to me; he's really conscious of who I am and my… lacking history. I can’t believe it happened. Kissing Zack was never like that. He’s making us dinner now.”

“That’s so great, Lane. But what do you mean kissing Zack was never like that? Didn’t you get… you know. Turned on? With Zack?” Rory says quietly; it sounds like she's on a city street. Lane blushes. She still can’t talk about sex without feeling a twinge of guilt, though her feminist studies yell at her in surround sound to be proud of her sexuality, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“Not like that, I guess. And I don’t even know if I got turned on, like for real. We didn’t kiss for long enough, I don’t think. He stopped us before we got to that point. But I did… well, he was shirtless, right? So, I scratched my nails into his back and he _moaned_.”

“ _Lane!_ ”

“Rory, don’t sound so scandalized! You lost your virginity to your married ex-boyfriend!” Rory let out a dark chuckle.

“Fair. Hey, hold on a second, Lane.” She hears Rory muffle the phone but she still catches bits of the conversation. _It’s Lane_ and _Dave_ and _good guy_ and _miss her_ and _in a minute_. “I’m back, sorry.”

“Who was that?”

“Well, speaking of ex-boyfriends…”

“ _What?_ ” Lane yells, excitedly

“I’m at Jess’ opening for his art gallery. It’s so nice.”

“But I thought you were with…” Lane trails off. Rory tuts.

“Logan? He cheated on me. Sort of. So, we’re done.”

“Jackass! You know I hated him. Even more than Jess,” Lane scoffs, even though she really didn’t hate Logan. She hoped he was truly reforming because of Rory; it seemed like Rory was good at getting guys to do that. Solidarity when your sister is hurt, though. That was always her and Rory’s motto, so she’ll gladly hate Logan if that’s what Rory needs right now.

“No, Lane, don’t. It wasn’t as bad as you think. When I’m out of Philly and back at home, we’ll talk again and I’ll explain in detail, but he’s not a bad guy. We really did love each other and we both made mistakes. He’s just… It just didn’t work out, you know?” Lane hums.

“I do know. I’m sorry, Rory-o. You know I just want you happy. How’s being with Jess again?”

“Well… Bible kiss bible?” Lane lets out a loud whoop.

“You kissed him?”

“We kissed each other!” Rory laughs delightedly.

“Even better! Oh, Ror, go get him. He’s seemed to have matured so wonderfully, and I definitely want to see you and him together.”

“Same with you and Dave!”

“Well, maybe a double date is in our future!”

“And a love song!”

“Ah! I recognize that tree!” They both laugh. “Well, we’ve both gotta get back to our men, don’t we? Can’t keep them waiting forever.”

“We already did that.”

“Wow, we really did. We _both_ really did.”

“Hey, Lane?” Lane hums. “I’m… really glad you’re with Dave. And that you said no to Zack. I don’t think he was your forever. He was never as kind to you as you deserve. You were never as happy as you were with Dave. I think that counts for something, yeah?” Lane smiles.

“Yeah, I think it does. Love you, Rory.”

“Love you, Lane-o.”

\--

Lane walks back in the apartment to smell basil.

“You made pesto? You have basil in here?” Dave turns around in an apron with a streak of green on his cheek and a wide, gorgeous, absolutely perfect smile.

“I made pesto! I cook now. I have a basil plant in one of the living room windows. Mittens keeps trying to eat it when she escapes from her cave.” Lane raises her eyebrows in surprise and walks over to him, pulling on the string keeping his apron together.

“Does Mr. Mom know he’s got some schmutz on his cheek?” Lane swipes it with her finger before he can get to it and sucks her finger into her mouth, hollowing out her cheeks. His pupils dilate and his grin turns wolfish. “Mm, tasty!” she shouts, cheerily. He goes to catch her around the waist but she jumps out of his reach before he can get to her. “Ah, ah, ah, keep stirring those noodles, Iron Chef!” He laughs and shakes his head before turning around and returning to the pasta.

“You got cheeky now that you’ve left the Hollow,” he calls over his shoulder.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Rygalski.” He shakes he head, chuckling. “Liking the view,” Lane says innocently. Dave groans.

“I am a grown man and you are reducing me to a teenage boy as I make this stupid meal.”

“I can finish myself if you can’t.” She clears her throat and jumps up on the free space on the counter and spreading her legs a bit. “You know, if you aren’t up for it.” Lane feels brave, proud, sexy. When she thinks about it, she realizes she's ever felt all of those things at once before this moment.

“God, Lane!” Dave yells, shielding his eyes from seeing her. “Let me make this pasta in peace! I can’t get hard while I make pesto, it’s disrespectful to the dish!” Lane laughs harder than she’s laughed in a long time. She feels happy, lucky, free.

“Hey, where’s your record player?” He points his thumb over his shoulder towards the living room.

“Next to the TV.” Lane jumps down from the counter, walks over to Dave and gives him a kiss in between his shoulder blades before going over to her records. She takes the, frankly, mind-boggling amount of bubble wrap off of the stack and sifts through them before finding what she was looking for. Bright Eyes’ _Lifted_. Enough sadness, hope and good music to pull them through.

It starts off ambient, but Dave loves this album just as much as Lane and once Conor Oberst starts singing, they join in.

 _So, I mean, it’s cool if you keep quiet, but I like singing  
_ _So, I’ll be holding my note and stomping and strumming and feeling so very lucky_

They scream the lyrics, glad the apartment above them will only start stomping on the floor to get them to shut up after 10:00 PM. After the song ends Lane, tells Dave to go back and tend to the meal and he does, swaying his hips to the music and singing along the whole time.

“I forgot how much I love this album! I don’t have it on vinyl, Lane, it’s so much better!” Lane makes a noise of assent. “Alright, and it’s… done!” He says, putting two plates on the small table in the kitchen. “Pesto chicken with pasta. Dig in!” Lane claps and sits down, immediately going to eat a bite before dropping the fork with most of the pasta still on it.

“Hot! Hot,” Lane yells, and Dave laughs.

“Yes, hot. I should’ve said.” Lane shakes her head.

“Bad Mr. Mom,” she pretends to chide. He looks solemn.

“Have I lost my privileges?” Lane pretends to look thoughtful.

“We’ll see how the meal tastes.” Dave nods and then looks excited.

“Hey. Knows what this song is great for?”

“False Advertising? What?” Dave gets up and offers her his hand, bowing slightly.

“Slow dancing.” Lane laughs.

“I guess it is! It’s got that shuffle.” Lane take his hand and gets up as gracefully as she can, curtseying.

“M’lady.”

“M’lord.” And they dance. It’s not the most graceful; they’re musicians, not dancers. But when Lane leans her head on Dave’s shoulder and Dave clasps his hands at the base of her spine, they both think it’s pretty nice anyway.

“Hey,” she says, voice barely above a whisper into his ear as the song plays on. “Remember prom?” Dave smiles into her temple.

“Every other memory,” he says quietly, spinning her and then reeling her back in.

“I brought Rory an actual _bag_ of photos from that night. 300 photos. We brought, what, fifteen disposable cameras?”

“Must’ve been somewhere around there. Couldn’t go forgetting the night I read the entire damn bible for.” Lane gasps.

“Damning the bible! My mom can _hear you_ , you know.” He shakes his head and looks down at her fondly.

“Let’s hope not,” he says, kissing her deeply in the middle of his living room. He twirls Lane around all of their belongings scattered in various states of disarray, including the drum kit, half set up in the corner. It feels closer to home after only 24 hours than any other place Lane has ever been.

“Yeah, let’s hope.”

\--

“Hey, this is my favorite song on the album,” Dave says during dinner.

“You Will, You Will? It’s nice. Simple. Why? What makes it your favorite?” Dave doesn’t usually pick favorites unless prompted, so Lane is intrigued. He shrugs and looks down at the piece of chicken he’s trying to spear.

“Listen to the words.”

 _Now, you’re the love of my lifetime_  
_Because there’s been times when I’ve had my doubts_  
_We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parents’ house_  
_Oh, I wish we were there now_  
_It took so long to figure out  
What is book has been about_

Lane smiles, soft, sad and slow.

“That’s a good favorite choice, Dave.”

“Yeah?” He asks, barely looking at her, insecure, mindlessly twirling his pasta. She hooks their ankles together under the table and nods. He looks up at her and fixes his hair, an anxious impulse now more than anything. She smiles confidently at him.

“Yeah, it is.”

\--

While they’re washing dishes, Lane speaks without looking at Dave, trying to be as casual as possible so as not to give away the fact that her heart is beating out of her chest. “Dave, when do you go back to work?”

“Monday. I had Wednesday off and I took these last two days as sick days.” Lane groans.

“Dave--”

“Lane,” he says, quietly, and even though the tone is barely heard over the sink, he says it with enough authority that Lane stops speaking. “You’re… You’re here. I’ve been wanting to see you for longer than you can imagine. I’m not gonna waste whatever time we have left together on work.” Lane makes a wounded noise and reaches over Dave to shut the sink off and grabs his sopping wet wrist to turn him towards her.

“Dave. I left Stars Hollow. I left. I have all of my stuff. You don’t see that? I brought my damn drum set.” He looks over at the bright red drums through the open door in the kitchen and then back at her. “I don’t want to go back; not for a long time.”

“What about your mom?”

“I said goodbye. She said goodbye. We hugged. She said _I love you_ . It’d be pretty mortifying for her for me to go back after that,” she says, cracking a smile and he mirrors it. Lane threads their fingers together, even though his fingers are soapy. “I don’t want to go back. I came here, I came to _Berkeley_ , for a reason.”

“What’s the reason?” He looks up from their joined hands with hope in his eyes.

“To find a home,” she says, and to her, it's simple, but to the rest of the world, it but sound so complicated. Dave sighs and closes his eyes, squeezing onto Lane’s hand like an anchor.

“I know I didn’t feel right in Stars Hollow. I know I always wanted to go to California, start a band, teach some kids guitar, grow old by the beach with a nice girl or guy or... person, whoever...” he says, trailing off. Dave came out to her as bisexual years ago, so this is no shock to her, but damn, she wishes she could be open about her feelings like he can be. Connecticut may be a liberal state, but the town of Stars Hollow, the heavy eyes of every who's knows you since birth on you at all times like a weight, is stifling. She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Dave opening his eyes because they’re shining, bright and scared and beautiful.

“But then I met you and, Lane, God, all those dreams went out the damn window. The summer we spent together before I left; I think about it all the time. Planning for you to sneak out into your front yard at 2 AM for us to watch the stars together. I got to tell people that you, brilliant, blazing, talented _you_ , were my girlfriend. I was good enough for you, not only according to your mother, but to you as well. We got to hold hands in the street! That sounds like so small, so insignificant, but, Lane, I haven’t held a single hand since then that felt as right as yours.”

Lane doesn’t realize she’s crying until Dave cups her cheek and swipes a tear track away with his thumb. She lets out a wet chuckle. “That was some speech, Rygalski. I--” Lane leans the weight of her neck into Dave's hand and lets him hold her up for a moment, overwhelmed, and closes her eyes. “I only stayed in Stars Hollow after you left because I knew it would disappoint my mother if I followed you.” She wishes she had more to say, but that’s it. That’s all there is anymore.

Lane is incredibly emotionally exhausted at the idea of going back, of losing Dave, of not being in this apartment anymore, of disappointing the people she loves so deeply. All she wants is to play music and for the people she loves to be proud of her. Zack was never proud of her, so Lane stopped loving him; it was really that simple for her. She feels his lips on her forehead, her brow, her cheekbone, the tip of her nose. She opens her eyes and sees him. He pulls back and looks at her.

“I only left because I had to,” he says, and that seems to be all there is left for him as well. He kisses her, soft and slow, like honey dripping. Dave tastes like pesto and something once familiar that she’s now just starting to remember.

She sighs against his lips, suddenly very tired, and says quietly, “Hey, do you wanna play music before bed? You pick, I just kind of just… want to hear you play.” He smiles.

“Sure.”

And, so, they get out her tom toms from behind the drum set, get his guitar and start to play. They go through a Kinks song, a Belle & Sebastian song, even try a song by The Clash done as quietly as possible before laughing too much through it and having to stop halfway through.

“Hey, can we do one more?” Lane asks.

“Mm. What do you have in mind?”

“Something happy. Something nice.” Dave smiles.

“I think I know something,” he says as he begins playing the riff to Just Can’t Get Enough by Depeche Mode.

“Acoustic?” Lane asks.

“I thought a true rocker was willing to try anything,” Dave teases and Lane sticks her tongue out at him.

“I’m ready for the challenge.” She keeps the beat as Dave smiles and starts to sing the first the first verse.

 _When I’m with you, baby_  
_I go out of my head_  
_And I just can’t get enough  
_ And I just can’t get enough

 _All the things you do to me_  
_And all the things you said_  
_I just can’t get enough  
_ I just can’t get enough

They smile their way through the rest of the song, laughing when Lane gets up and dances around the tom toms during the acapella segment. Lane wonders if she’s had this much fun playing music since after Dave left for college. Even gigs and concerts, none of of them feel as good as when she’s with someone she loves. As soon as the thought enters her head, she stops thinking about it, knowing it could lead down a dark rabbit hole.

They put their instruments away and get ready for bed, Lane showering while Dave flosses meticulously. (“Hey, flossing is very rock and roll.”)

By the time Lane finishes, Dave is already in bed, reading. He puts a bookmark in when Lane starts to crawl towards him, tapping the book before putting it down. Lane leans over him to put her glasses on the table and she’s hit by the domesticity of it all. It doesn’t feel suffocating or for show like it always did with Zack.  

“Bowie biography, Strange Fascination.” Lane hums. Dave shuts off the lamp on the table and pulls Lane into him. She curls around the side of his body and rests her head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your talk with Rory?” He asks. Lane perks up.

“Lovely. She’s with Jess, if you can believe it.” Dave stiffens, but continues talking in time as if he weren’t acting odd, even though his voice is strained.

“That’s great, what are they up to?” Lane picks up her head and looks at him, scrutinizing his bug-eyed stare and manic smile.

“They were… At his gallery opening in Philly…” Dave hums loudly and Lane rolls her eyes, leaning up and looking at Dave head-on. “Alright, why are you acting totally weird? Do you not like Jess?” He laughs and it sounds like the noise is being punched out of him.

“No, I like Jess…” He sounds like he’s about to continue, but the sentence trails off into nothing. Lane laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

“Oh, my god, Rygalski, just spit it –– ”

“I had sex with Jess!” Dave yells. Lane is stunned into silence. He looks at her, eyes wide and body rigid where it’s still under her arm.

“You… _When?_ ” Lane can barely get the word out of her mouth.

“Uh, sophomore year? I was at a gay bar watching my friend’s drag show and he… was there… and we got talking and we kind of… went back to my dorm.” Dave doesn’t even have the decency to looked afraid, he just looks like he’s in as much shock as Lane at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A… Uh… You and… Jess…”

“Is this… okay?” he asks, sounding so small. Lane lets out a hysterical laugh.

“It’s better than if you had sex with Rory!” Lane pauses for a moment, looking out the window at the buildings across from them, eyes widening. “Oh, my god, it’s kind of like you had sex with –– ”

“ _Stop saying I had sex with Rory!_ ” He yells, completely hysterical now as well.

“Well, you had sex with her boyfriend! Good thing they never… Shit! You didn’t need to know that!” Lane’s begins to hyperventilate at the thought of spilling her best friend’s secrets.

“Lane, Lane. Honey, it’s fine. Calm down, okay?” Dave runs his fingers through her hair and the continuous motion helps bring her breathing down to a normal level. She sighs and puts   her head back on Dave’s chest.

“It’s at least like kissing Rory, which is fine, because I’ve kissed Rory, so that’s not anything new. You might as well complete the circle.” Dave slowly raises his head to look at her.

“You’ve... what?” Lane laughs.

“When we were exploring our sexualities. Rory’s straight as an arrow, as it turns out,” Lane says, and she’s proud that it doesn’t come out bitter or sour. Maybe she really is moving on from her childhood crush on a girl who was always supposed to be her sister.

“And you?” Dave asks. Lane keeps herself still, and tries not to let the pause in the conversation last too long.

“Jury’s still out.” Dave hums. Lane pulls at his waist and cuddles herself closer to him. “But I like you. Jury’s made a unanimous decision on that one.” Dave runs his hand up and down the arm that’s reaching over his chest and kisses her hair.

“Well, the judge… is… I like you, too, I can’t be witty, I barely slept last night.” Lane laughs and kisses his collarbone in return.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

\--

Lane wakes up to the smell of… food. Something unidentifiable. She puts her glasses on, goes to the bathroom, and comes back out to hear Dave calling out for her.

“Do I hear my favorite drummer puttering around?” Lane walks into the kitchen and Dave leans his body away from the stove, clearly looking for a kiss. Lane gives him one, slipping one hand into his damp hair and one around his waist.

“Here I am!”

“Here you are! Looking radiant and lovely this morning, my darling. As always.” He turns back to the stove. Lane shoots his back an amused smile.

“You’re peppy.”

“I have plans tonight! Fun plans. Musical plans,” Dave says, practically vibrating. “Musical plans I get to take my girlfriend to.” He stops vibrating. Lane can’t help it, she laughs.

“Are you really worried because you called me your girlfriend? Please, Dave. I don’t go around packing everything I own in my car and traveling 3,000 miles for just anyone. Of course we’re dating.” He laughs, but it’s strained.

“Well, you just got out a really serious relationship, and we didn’t talk about it, so I didn’t know.” He turns around to look at her, but ends up watching himself toe at the linoleum. “I don’t want to force you into anything. That would kill me.” He bites his lip and Lane walks over to him. She pulls his lip out of his mouth and cards her hand through his hair.

“Dave, I came here to see if I could find a home. I’m closer to that than I’ve ever been in my life whenever I look at you.” Dave looks up at her. Lane smiles. “I don’t care what we call us. What matters is that I don’t lose that feeling. What matters to me is you. If you want to say we’re dating, it would certainly make sense. And if you’re worried I’m still feeling residual hold-over love for Zack, I really can’t stress any more strongly that I haven’t loved him for a long time. I loved him because I told myself I had to, and when I realized I was forcing myself to, all those feelings went away. I’ve been with him out of comfortability for a long time.” Dave looks heartbroken.

“Lane, I’d much rather you be happy than be with me. I genuinely thought Zach made you happy, so I didn’t push the issue. Of course I – I had feelings for you all this time. I never got over you. That much should be obvious by now,” Dave says, a bashfully smile pulling at the side of his mouth quickly before falling. “But I just assumed Zach was the guy for you. I wish I could’ve figured it out, helped you. I’m so sorry you ever felt that way. I only ever want your happiness, you have to know that. I may have liked you, but I didn’t want it this way.” Lane shrugs.

“I’m at peace with it. He was… I’m glad you didn’t see the way he treated me,” Lane says, and Dave’s eyes flash before his face sours.

“I saw him with women in general, so I have some idea. I tried to stop him, but I… didn’t have that kind of high status to him for him to respect me like that. We were friends. That was all.”

“Well, you do now,” Lane laughs. Dave looks lost.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I basically all but told him I was leaving him for you.” Dave raises his eyebrows, impressed, and smiles.

“Did you? Bet he took that like a champ,” he says, and Lane shrugs.

“Didn’t have much time to, I left town before I really got a chance to have a sit-down with him about it,” Lane says. “Rory once asked me a few years ago if I was happy and I was too blinded to see that it wasn’t better that way, just staying with him. The town kind of blinded me, too, in a way; made me think everything was rose-colored where it wasn’t.”

Dave hums, reaching over to turn off the stove before petting Lane’s hair. “Yeah, Stars Hollow can do that to people.”

“I was…” Lane takes a deep breath. _So, we’re going here. And before breakfast._ “I was afraid I had built up what we had in my head." She gestures in the small space between the two of them. "You and I. Because it was for only such a short time. I was afraid you’d shut the door in my face, think I was insane for traveling all this way for a seven month long romance that ended years ago.” Dave looks confused and sad, but smiles all the same.

“I’d never turn you away, Lane, you’re my friend over anything else. I was worried when I saw you at my door, of course I’d take you in. But… what did make you come here?” Lane closes her eyes and remembers the letter. She disentangles herself from Dave and goes to her suitcase, unzipping that pocket and grabbing the folded paper. She hands it over and hides her face.

“When I was packing, I found this. And, just… everything you wrote. It made me think that, maybe, you hadn’t lost hope, even though it was right after we’d broken up. Or that at least I could… remind you. Of that time. I felt crazy to even think that you’d be okay with me traveling all this way over a breakup letter, but – ”

“Lane, I remember this letter,” he says, wondrous while reading it. “This was not a breakup letter. I can’t believe you kept it... I wrote this carefully, hoping you’d think that way. Here,” he exclaims, pointing to the letter. “Here, right here, I said _I’ll always pick up your call_. I meant that, Lane. I meant I would _always_ , always, pick up your call. I’ll always answer the door.” Dave looks back up, clutching the paper a little manically. “This is all I hoped for, God. I hoped you’d notice what I wrote and come back.” And he drops the paper on the ground and kisses her, hands shaking. Lane’s beginning to see a pattern in his unsteadiness.

“No! Wait!” Lane yells, breaking the frantic kiss and dropping to the floor to pick up the letter. “This is a precious artifact, here, my darling.” He laughs, taking it from her and putting it on the counter, safe from the crepe mix.

“How could I be so silly,” he says, voice dripping in fondness, eyes soft, and reels her back in.

\--

They’re walking hand-in-hand through the streets of Berkeley and it’s the first time they’ve been outside the apartment since Lane showed up at Dave’s door three days ago. It’s domestic in a way that makes Lane nervous; it feels too much like Stars Hollow for comfort. She looks up at Dave out of the corner of her eye, who is humming The White Stripes and swinging her hand and his guitar case intermittently, and reminds herself that she’s holding the hand of the only person in this town who knows her. She could be herself, wholly and completely, and no one would even know the difference.

“Hey, Dave?” He squeezes her hand. “You haven’t yet, but could you… not call me dude?” He looks over at Lane, puzzled. “Zack used to… almost exclusively call me dude and it was…” Dave gives her a low, sad hum.

“Of course, Lane. Yeah, anything. Are there any other names he called you that you want me to stay away from?” Lane grimaces.

“Well, he called me babe a lot, too. That I could be… swayed on. Given time,” she says, and Dave nods. “But dude is definitely… yeah. It didn’t feel good at the time and it wouldn’t feel good now.” Dave looks mildly disgusted at the idea of calling her by that name in the first place and it pleases Lane more than she could say, knowing that even though these two boys grew up in the same town and were in the same band, they couldn’t be more different.

“I can assure you that, even though I was probably never gonna call you dude before, it’s definitely not gonna happen now,” he says, thumbing at Lane’s knuckles. Lane smiles nervously, not making eye contact.

“Thanks…” She’s lost her confidence completely. Dave untangles their fingers and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling Lane’s body into his. The contact abates her stress a bit and Lane wonders how he knew to do that.

“You know you can ask me for things, right? You can ask anyone for things, but you can especially ask me. If we’re gonna do this, I want…” He trails off and sighs. “I want you to trust me, I suppose.” Lane wraps her arm around his waist.

“I’m trying,” she whispers, and she’s almost certain it’s lost to the noise of the street. _Be brave_ , her mother tells her again, somewhere deep and buried in the darkest parts of her. Lane closes her eyes briefly, and when she opens them, she smiles. She hopes her mother is proud of her. “I’m trying to.”

Dave has stopped walking and Lane stops with him. His gaze is unreadably intense. “You know, I…” He shakes his head and his face clears. Lane gives him a quizzical look. “Nothing. I just have something to show you when we get back.” Lane takes a deep breath.

“Yeah.” She says, thinking about the jug still packed in her bag. “Me, too.”

\--

They walk into Two Ravens Bar holding hands and everyone who turns to look at them hoots. Lane blushes deep, but keeps her head held high. Dave, however, crumbles into Lane's shoulder and hides his face.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry, Lane, I didn’t know they’d be this weird.” Lane squeezes his hand as someone walks up to them out of the crowd.

“Davey, you’ve brought a girl! Stitch, has Davey ever brought a girl in the entire two and a half years he’s been coming here?” The older, burly man calls over his shoulder. He looks to be in his mid-thirties. He’s tattooed, mustachioed and entirely intimidating. The other man, Stitch, looks either too tired or too inebriated to answer, his head on the table. He gives a thumbs up in response. The gruff-looking man, who Lane now notices to be wearing lipstick of some kind under his beard, shakes his head with a fond look. “Stitch had a long day at work today with the kidlings, but wanted to see you play anyway, Davey.” _Kidlings?_

“Ah. They can be tiring, I well know,” Dave responds, kindly. “Rex, this is Lane. Lane, this is Rex, the boyfriend of Stitch, who is my co-worker at the school. He teaches fourth grade and Rex is a bartender here most nights.” Rex sticks his hand out quickly.

“Hi, Lane! It’s so very nice to meet you. Where has Davey been hiding you?” Lane laughs as Dave groans, relaxing slightly.

“Rex, be nice,” Dave grumbles into the hand that isn’t clutching onto his guitar case like a vice.

“I’m always nice!” Rex responds with a blinding smile, and Lane believes him. She doesn’t know why she felt intimidated by him at all.

“I’m actually a friend from back home,” Lane says. Rex raises his eyebrows.

“A _friend_ , huh?”

“A _close_ friend,” Lane says, leans into Rex’s side conspiratorially, raising her eyebrows back at him. She isn’t sure how much Dave wants to tell people about their relationship, but she doesn’t have to wonder for too much longer, as Dave lets out a frustrated grunt.

“Rex, this is my girlfriend, Lane,” he says, slipping his arm around her waist. “Now, will you give it a rest and leave me be?” Rex laughs, big and booming, like he doesn’t care who hears him, and it immediately puts Lane at ease. Stitch ambles over and puts an a hand on Rex’s shoulder.

“Rex, you being good?” Rex hums and leans down to kiss Stitch chastely. Stitch is small in size, but a powerful, calming presence. Stitch pulls away and touches Dave’s arm. “You okay, too, Dave?” Dave nods with a grimace.

“Keep this one away from me and we’ll be good.” Dave says, nodding his head at Rex and winking. “Come on, Lane, it’s almost time for me to set up.” The four of them walk over to the booth Rex and Stitch had been sitting in.

“Set up for _what_? What is going to happen tonight? You refused to tell me all day because you claimed it would be 'more romantic' and I punched you in the arm every time you said it.” Rex laughs loudly at that.

“I like her!” Rex yelps, delightedly.

“I don’t,” Dave grumbles, lying through his teeth, about both aspects of the conversation. There was no punching, and he definitely likes her. “I have a bruise on my arm to prove it, too.”

“I bet, I’m strong as hell.”

“All rockstars have to be,” Dave teases.

“Rockstars,” Stitch comments, and Rex looks like he’s going to fly out of his seat out of excitement. Stitch puts a hand on his heavily tattooed arm to calm him down, but it doesn’t do much. “So, you play?” Lane nods.

“It’s all I do,” she says, a bit seriously. Dave nods, the excitement from Rex wearing off on him.

“She’s the best drummer I’ve ever come across. Everyone at Berkeley was a fraud, a fucking fraud,” Dave gushes.

“I’m sure that’s not entirely accurate,” Lane scoffs, tilting her head towards Dave. “But rock and roll is certainly in my blood.”

“We were in a band together back home, that’s how we met,” Dave says.

“How _romantic!_ ” Rex titters.

Dave lets out a laugh that starts out loud and delighted, and tapers off when he realizes it’s disturbing the peace that’s suddenly come over the room. Lane, however, doesn’t think that laugh could disturb a thing. Someone taps the microphone and there’s a bit of feedback, which causes Dave and Lane to turn in the booth where they’re sitting and face the makeshift stage.

“Dave, paging Dave to the stage for set up. Stop hanging out with pretty girls and start your show, moron,” says the girl at the front. She’s terribly British and tall and lanky with dark makeup and skimpy clothing. She's, in a word, intoxicating. Lane can't stop looking at her. The girl rolls her eyes, goes behind the bar and starts fixing a drink.

“Okay, I’m being _paged_ ,” Dave says, laughing as he slides out of the booth.

“Who’s that?” Lane asks, and she’s surprised she’s not jealous; the bartender is usually the type that would cause a spike of possessiveness in Lane when it came to Zack. Maybe the difference was that she knew Zack was a womanizer and still flirted with other girls while he was dating Lane. She knows Dave would never be like that, had dated him before and saw that he’d only had eyes for Lane. A settled feeling sits inside her and she smiles genuinely, serenely, at Dave.

“That’s Cara. She’s… abrasive.” Dave looks at her and rolls his eyes back at her. “She’s fine, she’s our friend, you would actually probably get along with her; she’s very well-educated, a feminist scholar, won’t let any man talk down to her or any woman. She’s prone to kicking men out if they come on too strongly to anyone. But Brian would probably run like hell from her, you know the kind of girl I’m talking about?” Lane laughs.

“I do. Now, go,” she says, pushing his chest. He lets himself be pushed backwards a few steps, smiling at her, starry-eyed and very obviously in love.

“I hope you like it.”

“We’ll see. I’m a tough critic,” she says, smirking at him. He smirks back.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you are,” he teases. “You want a drink?” Lane thinks.

“One. I’m a lightweight, as you very well remember, _Davey,_ ” she teases back. Dave rolls his eyes, but nods and walks up to the bar. He asks Cara for something before walking up on the makeshift stage. He grabs his guitar out of its case and begins tuning in the corner. Lane turns back to Stitch and Rex, who are both smiling mischievously, Rex albeit more intensely than Stitch.

“What,” Lane says, deadpan.

“Nothing,” Stitch says.

“You guys seem close, is all,” Rex says, barely containing his glee. _Obviously not nothing._

“Well, yeah, we’re dating. And old friends.” Stitch nods.

“How old? What’s the story?” Lane glances at Dave setting up out of the corner of his eye, wondering how well he knows these friends.

“Well, what do you know about his growing up in Connecticut?”

“Enough,” Stitch says, cryptically.

“He said he left someone behind,” Rex says, and Stitch elbows him in the stomach. “Ow! What, he did!” Lane laughs.

“Yeah, he did. She came back, I guess,” Lane murmurs loud enough to be heard over the noise, shrugging. Rex looks moony-eyed, starstruck by the story he’s putting together. Stitch looks trepidatious.

“So, you’re her, then. You’re the girl from his hometown he could never get over,” Stitch muses. He doesn’t even have the decency to phrase it like a question, and Lane likes his moxy.

She shrugs. “I am from his hometown and a girl who never got over him. So, if the shoe fits.” Rex hums, and then says something that Lane wouldn’t have expected out of him.

“Be careful with Davey, Lane. He’s fragile merchandise.” Lane nods after a few seconds, taken aback.

“Yeah, I–I’m trying to be.”

“We hope you will be,” Stitch says, quietly. “We’ve known Dave a few years now and he’s never… shown interest in anyone before. Not like this. He seems genuinely comfortable around you. He’s almost never comfortable, so this is shocking on many levels,” he laughs, and Rex laughs with him.

“Yeah, our Davey isn’t the biggest social butterfly on the scene, but he plays a mean Belle & Sebastian.” Lane smiles at Rex’s words.

“Oh, I’m familiar, actually,” she muses before the bar’s lights dim. Lane looks around and there’s a gaggle of people that had walked in after them that she hadn’t noticed, all standing around, watching Dave, waiting. Lane has the feeling this isn’t as casual as she’d been led to believe.

Cara drops her drink on the table, looking to be a jack and coke. She gives Lane a once-over that is not at all subtle, smirks, winks, and walks up to the microphone as Dave takes his seat on the stool behind it. Lane is blushing ferociously as she speaks. “Hello, wankers. I hope you enjoy the dulcet sounds of our favorite resident toolbox, Dave Rygalski.” There’s hooting and hollering coming from the crowd, the loudest being from Rex and, surprisingly to Lane, Stitch. Lane claps and, after a moment, joins in screaming with the crowd.

“Hey, guys. I’m, uh. I’m back! With some new tunes, some covers, I guess some of you know the drill. Okay, I’m gonna start off with a song that I’m bringing back for an old friend,” he says, glancing up at Lane’s table, and starts to strum. Lane recognizes the song immediately, having played the CD it’s on multiple times on her trip to Berkeley.

 _Oh, elope with me in private and we'll set something ablaze  
_ _A trail for the devil to erase_

Lane suddenly remembers a hot, sunny day, laying in Rory’s room in the summer of 2003, listening to this album when it came out. She remembers listening to this song and Rory sighing, her saying _Lane, will I ever find love? Real love; the kind that loves me back?_ She was about to go off with her mother on a European adventure after losing a love so tender and raw in Jess. And Lane? Lane got Dave. Lane had reached out and squeezed Rory’s hand, neither of them even bothering to look at each other, not needing to, and returning her sentiment. _You’ll find it, Rory-o._

 _I love you, I’ve a drowning grip on your adoring face  
_ _I love you, my responsibility has found a place_

Lane had found that love in Dave, she realizes, as he looks up at the crowd, eyes searching, and finally meeting hers. She smiles excitedly, an impulse, her love for him and her joy that he’s making a career out of music taking over any thoughts she has for the moment. Dave smiles a bit, bashfully, and continues singing.

Lane wonders if he’ll ever know how much of a difference his love made in her life. _Maybe he doesn’t need to_ , she thinks, as the crowd claps for him. Stitch leans over to Lane.

“Told you, he plays the hell out of Belle & Sebastian,” he says, and Lane gives him a wild smile, looking back at Dave.

“Yeah. He really does.”

\--

As the show ends, Lane looks at Dave in wonder. He’d just played a 30-minute acoustic set and not a single person left the room during it. In fact, more people came in and had to squish against one another to fit in the standing-room of the bar. There was around 65 people in the room by the end of it, and Lane had never been more proud. She was flying. Also, that drink Cara brought her over was strong as hell. A lot of rum. Delicious rum.

“Guys!” Lane yells, turning back to Stitch and Rex. They both look varying degrees of amused at her drunken antics. Lane’s mostly just proud she didn’t scream out anything inappropriate during the show. She could’ve. It was certainly a possibility. Dave looked good. _Damn_ good. “Dave is _great_!”

“We know!” Rex laughs, delightedly. “Did Cara bring your poor, little body a full glass of rum?”

“Ah! Maybe! I’m feeling good, but it’s okay, because Dave is incredible. Did you hear that original towards the end? The one with…” Lane hums, what she thinks, is a Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame worthy rendition of Dave’s song. “He didn’t tell me he’d been writing original songs recently! I’m so proud of him… Look how much people love him! Look!” She yells, gesturing sloppily to the group of people surrounding him, complimenting his set. He looks vaguely uncomfortable with the praise, caught in the middle of the crowd, but is taking it in stride. Stitch is stifling his laughter like a champion, but Rex is doing no such thing, practically rolling in his seat.

“God, Dave is going to love this,” Rex says, slapping his hand on the table. His nails are painted a nice burgundy color; it matches the dark wood beautifully and Lane is entranced by it.

“Pretty nails…” she comments, dazed. Rex looks over at Stitch, smirking.

“Thank you, Laney,” Rex says, fondly, and Lane looks up delightedly at the nickname as a hand touches her shoulder. She looks up to see Dave and her face lights up further.

“Hey, friends,” Dave says, smiling and looking around the table.

“Davey!” Lane and Rex says together. Dave’s smile widens.

“Hi, Dave. Great set, as always,“ Stitch says, softly and kindly. Dave beams at him.

“Thanks, Stitch! A five star review! What’s up with these two?” Stitch rolls his eyes.

“Nothing’s up with us, Davey, we’re just so proud of you!” Lane calls out, stumbling to get up and give Dave a hug. He catches her as she trips out of the booth and laughs. He’s got a secure arm around her waist to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere and a hand at the back of her neck.

“Thank you, honey,” he says, quietly into Lane’s hair, so softly that only Lane could hear it. She smiles and buries her face into his neck, knocking her glasses askew. He removes them, puts them in his back pocket, and wraps his arm back around her.

“Lane’s a little drunk and Rex is… Rex,” Stitch says, throwing an arm over Rex’s shoulders. Dave laughs.

“How’d this one get so tipsy?” Dave asks, stroking Lane’s hair.

“Cara likes me,” Lane harshly whispers into his ear.

“Ah,” Dave murmurs, casting a look over his shoulder. “Cara, you getting my girlfriend drunk?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that girl can’t hold her liquor,” Cara calls out from behind the bar.

“Yeah, could be,” Dave responds quietly, almost to himself, looking at Lane who is now half-asleep on his shoulder.

“Not my type, I guess,” she comments mildly, much to Dave’s absolute horror. “Just my luck, cute girl comes to town and she’s already attached to some dorky musician.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Dave all but yells back at her, voice strained and nervous. “ _Pretty attached._ ” Stitch and Rex chuckle and Lane wakes back up to the sound of their laughter.

“Davey, you were so good. So good. Rory and Jess should be here to carry your stuff home, they’re our roadies. I miss Rory,” Lane sighs, laying her head on Dave’s shoulder. Dave tuts.

“I know, baby,” he says quietly, just for her. He kisses her forehead and she smiles, eyes closed. 

She perks up. “Hey! I have an idea!” Lane begins trying to untangle herself from Dave, who still has a tight hold on her waist. “I’ll be your roadie, in honor of Rory! Where’s your guitar? I’ll carry it home! Home. Nice word…” She mumbles, looking around, head spinning violently, her hair getting in Dave’s face.

“Okay, boys, I think it’s time I get this one home,” Dave says, laughter in his voice, as he tries to get Lane’s hair out of his mouth. “Plus we have to feed the kitten. It was nice to see you, though. Stitch, I’ll see you and the kids tomorrow. Rex, drinks Saturday night?” Rex gives a flamboyant salute and Stitch nods towards Lane.

“You want me to call a cab?” Dave shakes his head.

“Nah, I got her. She’s not too bad, just excited, we can walk. Thanks so much for coming guys, I’ll see you later.” Dave waves at the couple and then looks at Lane. “Lane, hon, we’re gonna go, alright?”

“Okay, Davey. Bye, Stitch, bye, Rex! It was so nice to meet you! Thank you for taking care of Davey while I was gone,” Lane says, and it earns her bemused looks from Rex and Stitch and a lovestruck look from Dave.

“You’re welcome, Lane,” Stitch says. “It was nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, you’re just as larger-than-life as Davey promised,” Rex says with a smile, patting Dave on the back. “You did good out there tonight, Davey. Congrats.”

“Thanks, Rex.” He responds, smiling warmly. “Come on, Laney, let’s get my guitar and we can go.”

“Okay. Bye, Cara!” Lane calls out, excitedly waving at the girl behind the bar. Cara gives her a bemused smile and a shake of the head before waving back.

Lane grabs Dave’s guitar, with a bit of a fight from Dave, and weaves her way through the crowd. She notices that almost everyone congratulates Dave on his show tonight. Lane’s overwhelming pride sobers her a bit as she watches him say goodbye to Cara from the doorway with a soft smile.

Dave makes eye contact with Lane and his thousand yard stare is just as tender, and Lane can’t help but fall deeply in love with the life she chose for herself.

\--

“Dave?” Lane asks as he brushes his teeth and she pulls on some sleeping shorts in the bedroom.

“Yeph?” He responds, mouth full of toothpaste. So, maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask this. Lane never claimed to be great at timing. She had her strengths as a human and she had her flaws. Sue her.

“What did you want to tell me? On the street, on the way to the show?” Lane can hear him bang into something, probably the sink and drop his toothbrush. He curses and says quietly, “At least it landed in the sink,” before sighing.

“Hold on, baby, let me finish up.” So, she was curious. _Sue her._ She flopped down on the bed and set up a complicated rhythm above her on the headboard, trying to distract herself from the looming question above both of their heads and trying to stave off the remaining tipsiness. Cara really, _really_ liked her.

Probably much longer than it should take to brush one’s teeth later, Dave is walking out into the bedroom. She hears him take a breath and she’s suddenly afraid to have this conversation, whatever it may be, so she does what she always does when faced with a nerve-wracking situation: prolong it by talking.

“So,” she starts, still tapping a beat out on the headboard. “How long have Stitch and Rex been together? Because they are honestly just darling. Really. The sweetest. Rex is exactly who you wouldn’t expect him to be and I love it. And Stitch! Ah! He made me feel so calm and content every time he spoke. And Cara! What a – “

“Lane.”

“ – chick. Yes?” And Lane’s voice is vibrating with nerves with just that one word. Her feet are now tapping the bass to the beat she’s drumming out and she’s close to shaking. What if it’s bad? What if he wants her to leave? God, she really does not want to lug her drum set down the staircase. How did Dave manage that the first time?

“Look at me, darling. Please.” Lane sighs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, mostly to herself. She’s so selfish sometimes. Here is her boyfriend, desperately needing to talk about something, and Lane is rambling about their night to avoid it. Even if it is bad, it’s important to him, so Lane takes a breath and hauls herself up to a sitting position on the bed.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to see it, but when she does, she can’t really hold herself accountable for her reaction. Dave is shirtless and wearing pajama pants with a cute little pineapple print on them, and Lane comments that she likes them to which he smiles softly at her before looking nervous again. He looks more raw and vulnerable than she’s ever seen him, biting anxiously at his lip, and she doesn’t really know why; she’s seen him in this state before, without a shirt and ready for bed.

But then she sees it.

It takes her about 10 seconds of staring at Dave’s hipbone before speaking in a dangerously reedy and tenuous voice, about ready to shatter. “Dave. What’s that?”

He touches his own hip, knowing exactly where she’s looking without even having to take his eyes off of her, but doesn’t answer. Lane crawls slowly to the edge of the bed.

“Come here. Please.” She tacks the last word on like it’s an impulse from a life she isn’t living anymore, but the word cracks and splits down the middle, rips like lace. He walks over a few steps.

“Closer. I want to…” Lane trails off, hand limply reaching out towards his skin. Dave takes the last few steps into her space where she’s sitting at the end of the bed and it looks like it takes all the bravery he has.

“You…” She doesn’t know how to finish her sentence, doesn’t know if she even can. She reaches out and touches his hip and the ink is not raised, has been apart of him for years. “You got a tattoo of the Hep Alien logo.”

“Yeah. About two months after moving here. Actually, the day I got your letter that you wanted to end things, I went out that night and got it,” he adds, wringing his hands tightly, over and over. Lane pulls them apart simply by touching them lightly.

“Why?” She asks, and it’s barely audible.

“I wanted a piece of the most important place I’d been with me. I wanted a piece of…”

“Me,” she whispers, and it comes out broken and in pieces in her hands.

“Yeah,” Dave says, running a hand through her hair. “You.”

“I…” It’s the same intricate detail she’d praised Jess on so many years ago, the same design she has as a bumper sticker on the back of her Jeep, the same logo that permanently attached not just her, Brian, Gil and Zack, but also Dave. Dave Rygalski, the boy who saw something in her, perhaps insane, but still so very Lane Kim, advertisement. The boy who gave her music a chance to live, the boy who gave her music a reason to thrive. “How did I not notice it?”

“You only saw me shirtless once and you were… distracted then,” he says, kindly, and Lane is so glad he doesn’t choose this moment to tease her. He sits down on the bed, taking one of her hands in both of his, before speaking.

“Lane, I was so proud of you. I have all your performances bookmarked in a folder on my laptop. It’s more embarrassing than anything else on my computer, god, videos of my ex-girlfriend’s band. But I didn’t care. You were thriving, Lane, you were so incredible. You were the heart of Hep Alien, you were since the day you played your first song with us, quietly in the back room of a music store in Stars Hollow. That band, we, they, they were nothing without you. If they try to keep playing now, they’re gonna fall on their asses. I really feel for Brian and Gil, I feel like I should send them condolence cards.

“Every song you wrote, every word, they were all just wildly better than anything I’d ever heard out here. They inspired me to write again. You inspired me. You still do, every day. Lane, you’re wildly talented; you have music in your blood, you are made of stardust and rock and roll. The world was not ready when it made you. I was not ready when I met you. I was ready to leave small-town life behind, but you… you made Stars Hollow my home because that’s where you were. That’s where the music lived. You are music, Lane. That’s why I brought you to my show tonight: to show you what you’ve inspired me to do. I’ve gotten attention from producers around here, but none of it felt real without my drummer. I wanted to ask you so many times to move out here with me; music is everywhere in Berkeley. At Two Ravens, they have showcases every week. They bring me in every couple of months because they’re nepotistic, but I just… want you with me. I want that to be us. I want to make music with you, Lane. God, this got so off-track,” he chastises, and searches for his words for a moment. Lane doesn’t think she could breathe if she tried, the moment so tenuous and paper-thin, she feels as if she could break it.

“You have been all I’ve thought about these last four years. Our monthly phone calls got me by. Cara would ream into me whenever I got drunk enough to talk about you about being a 'nice guy', as she called it, and hanging onto a girl who doesn’t want it. She told me you’d 'friendzoned' me by being with Zack. Stitch gave me a talk once about loving a girl who would never love me back, but… it didn’t seem like you _didn’t_ love me back. You kept calling. So, I kept answering. I told you, Lane, I’ll always answer your call. I’ve been hooked since you accidentally told me you loved me in a Dead Kennedys shirt that was too big for you so it would fit over top of your Mrs. Kim-Appropriate shirt and I never really got unstuck from you.”

Lane finally, finally took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, looking at their sweaty, joined hands. She looked up at him and saw only sincerity and truth. Someone believed in her. Someone had _always_ believed in her.

“Rory always made me feel like I was enough," Lane says, trying to control her voice so it doesn't shake. "She was my family, my safe place to hide. But her house was never home. It was comfortable, but never home. I find home inside people. I found that, first, in Rory and Lorelai. And then in you,” she says, daring to look up at Dave whose eyes are shining already. “I was 17 when I met you, we hadn’t even begun dating yet, I'd only known you for maybe three weeks, and I told Rory I was in love with you. I never told you outside from my slip-up that first day because I am the patron saint of too intense, of scare-you-away. But, damn, I loved you anyway.”

“Are you writing a song… out loud?” he asks, head quirking, smiling. She stops moving, eyes wide. She pulls her hand away and begins fidgeting.

“I don’t know, sometimes this happens when I get really emotional, I start… rhyming, things just start pouring out of me and I start to wax lyrical. Zack always told me to stop writing out loud and tell him how I really felt.” Lane looks away briefly, ashamed she stayed with Zack the way she did, as long as she did. She looks back and Dave’s head is tilted, eyes soft and mouth in a half-smile.

“Sweetheart. You are telling me how you really feel. I’m just trying to listen as best as I can,” he says, and all the tension flows out of Lane’s body and is gone.

“Well, listen close,” she says, grabbing his cheeks with both hands. “You are the most important person in my life and you saved me by giving me a vessel for my love to someone who wanted it. You are everything I want,” she says, forcefully. He puts his trembling hands on hers and smiles. “Oh!” She then scrambles off the bed and starts going through her suitcases, still sprawled all over the apartment. She really needs to consolidate. “Remember that secret?”

“What secret?” Dave asks, amused and befuddled because of the sudden movement.

“Where is it, where is it…” she mumbles. “The secret I told you about the first night I got here. The gift.”

“Oh, wow, yes. God, it feels like it’s been ages,” he comments.

“I know. Ah!” She yells, pulling out a box from her one of her duffel bags. She sets it on the ground in front of him. “Open it.” He looks at her with trepidation, but does. And there it is: the jug.

“Is this…” He pulls it out and sets it in front of them, pushing the empty box away.

“It’s not a marriage jug,” she says, and his whole body seems to relax. “It’s a commitment jug.”

He looks back up at her. “A commitment jug.”

“Yes. It symbolizes that I am here for the long haul. I am not going anywhere.”

“A commitment jug,” he smiles. He reaches his arms out for her and Lane walks around the jug and slips into his lap, folding herself around him. “This is the best, nicest, weirdest, sweetest, most romantic gift I’ve ever been given. This is better than the tattoo.”

“It is not better than the tattoo!” she argues.

“Uh huh,” he says nodding, a shit-eating grin on his face. She places a hand over the tattoo, holding his hip in her hand and fully covering it. “Way better.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” She shakes her head and tucks her face into the crook of his neck. She breathes in his scent, the same one that in all the blankets and all the pillowcases. Home.

Lane Kim had found home all those years ago and it took her a long, long time to get it back, but she made it. Home.

\-- 

They both had a lot of nervous energy to get out after the conversation, so Lane pulled out her songwriting journal and took to getting down everything else can’t say out loud in song. Dave took a shower and is now puttering around anxiously. He clearly has something else he needs to talk about and is gathering up the courage to say it. Lane smiles fondly, shakes her head, and keeps writing. She knows he'll talk to her when he's ready.

“So, Cara and I talked about the bar needing a server after the show…” Dave starts nervously.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Said they need someone to start ASAP, their head server is about to go on maternity leave and is going to need a higher paying job when she goes back to work.”

“Mm. Good luck to her, babies are a good thing in the world.” Lane says, a little distractedly, writing furiously in her journal.

“That’s true! So true. I love babies."

"Me too!" Lane stops writing and looks at where the desk meets the wall. Are they going to talk about _having children?_

"Um, I, uh, mentioned to Cara that you were a waitress back at Stars Hollow and she said you’d be perfect for the job." No, not having children. Lane relaxes a bit, and then realizes where the conversation is going and narrows her eyes at the paper in front of her. "She said she could recommend you to her mom, who runs the place.”

She slowly closes the book, turns around, and looks at him. “You know I can get my own job,” Lane says flatly. “I don’t need my boyfriend to get a job for me.”

“Shit, no, shit. I didn’t tell her to go through with it. I told her I’d talk to you and if you were interested, you’d stop by with your resume. It was very nonchalant. I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you couldn’t get your own job, Lane, of course not. Shit…” he says, dejectedly, and Lane knows she’s made a mistake. She stands up and walks over to him. She reaches out and pulls at one of his curls and brushes it behind his ear.

“No, it’s okay, Dave. I’m just… used to people assuming I can’t take care of myself. My mom kind of controlled my life with an iron fist to the lung for 19 years,” Dave nods, and Lane knows he understands, had watched the way she’d control everything down to what she wore.

“I know, Lane. I wasn’t trying to control you, I swear. I just know the area, is all. I know everyone that works at Two Ravens and–”

“Dave. I know. I overreacted, I’m sorry. Thank you for talking to her for me, I’ll print out my resume and we can walk it over when you get home tomorrow.” Dave smiles smugly. “What?”

“Home.” He looks at Lane. “You called it home.”

“Oh, well…” she starts, looking for ways to backtrack. “I meant, you know, _your_ home. House, really. I barely even have any emotional connection to that place! It’s mostly just a building, you know, where my things live. Right now! But I’ll be leaving soon. Really soon.” Lane stops looking at her hands, which are everywhere, flying in as many directions as her arms can reach, and looks at Dave. He’s barely containing his laughter. “You can stop me at any time.”

He lets out a laugh and catches one of her hands in his, kissing the inside of her wrist. “You should move in.”

Lane stares at him, eyes bulging. “What?”

“I said, you should move in.” Lane begins sputtering.

“I just–I just got to town a few days ago!” She exclaims to Dave’s peaceful smile, like he already has all the answers.

“Yeah, you did,” he says, taking her in his arms and settling back to look at her. “It would make more sense if you lived with me than if you got an apartment by yourself in a city you didn’t know.”

“I can do that! And you don’t have room for all my stuff!”

“I know you can. But you don't have to. And there’s enough room. I’ll make room. I’ll get rid of some of my stuff, I don’t care. Lane, I want you with me. I’ve wanted this for years, God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this: you in my city, you in my home, you… with me. Lane, I’ve wanted you in any way I could have you since I met you,” he sighs. _I'll take you any way I can have you, Lane Kim._ “I took you in pieces while I lived in Stars Hollow, I took you fractured while you were with Zack, and now… now, I have you more fully than I’ve ever had you before. In my bed, in my house, eating the food I make, I just… Lane, this is all I’ve wanted. You have to understand that. I have dreamt of you, the rockstar, the sun, the girl on the run, for all of my adult life. You are _it_ for me, Lane Kim. You’re it. I am not letting go now that I finally have you.”

And Lane is met with a crossroads, the one she knew would come eventually. She could leave Dave now, before they get any more attached, and go. Run. Spread her wings. Thanks, I’ve had fun, but I’ll see you later. Learn sanskrit and karate and how to play the french horn and the piccolo and the bassoon and explore the world. Or, she could stay here, start a new band, maybe with Dave, maybe without, explore this sunkissed city, make friends with Rex and Stitch and Cara, work at a bar, develop a tolerance to alcohol and fall even more madly and deeply love than she already has with the boy who had ripped out his burning, bleeding heart and dropped it at his feet twice already this evening. The boy who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable, to be scared; what a contrast to the life she left behind.

Lane imagines these two worlds playing out in front of her. She imagines living out of her car and being a traveller of the world. She imagines going out for drinks with Rex and Stitch on Saturday nights. She imagines meeting boys, meeting girls, and never having anything permanent. She imagines making this house her home with Dave.

And isn’t that what she wanted in the first place? What she told her mother and Dave she was searching for when she left Stars Hollow? A home. She’s been looking for a home. She already gave him the damn jug. She could travel and see the world and leave this beautiful, oceanic, musical place.

Or, she could stay and kiss the boy in front of her for all he’s worth.

Dave lets out a noise that’s a cross between an _oomph_ and a moan when Lane throws herself at him. She doesn’t know how long she stood there thinking, but Dave looked quite nervous before she pitched her arms around his neck. He seems mostly placated now with her passionately kissing him, but he’s still trying to get a word in edgewise.

“Lane, are you–“ Kiss. “–are you sure this–” Kiss. “Lane,” he says, forcefully, pulling her away by the shoulders, which looks like is bringing him physical pain to do. Lane’s not to happy about it either, pouting. “Lane, are you sure you don’t want to say anything?” She stops frowning, thinks.

“I suppose you should know that I love you.” His hands start shaking even more than they were before, clutching her shoulders like a lifeline, but his face doesn’t change.

“You… You do?” She smiles cheerily.

“Yep! I told you years ago, don’t you remember?” He laughs, disbelievingly, more like he can’t believe this is happening less than he believes Lane herself is lying.

“You’d known me for a couple of minutes,” he says, doubtfully. Lane shrugs.

“I’m aware. I knew then that you were the love of my life then and I know it now. I don’t want to let you get away twice. I’m not just gonna lea–mmph!” She’s cut off by a kiss, rough and tender all at once, but shorter than she can react to.

“Sorry,” Dave says, pupils blown. He pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and Lane wonders why she needs to speak, why she can’t just _kiss him_. “Continue.”

“I…” she starts, dazedly. “There’s no way I’m gonna become your Pete Best.” And the look he gives her is absolutely indescribable. It’s like she had grabbed stars from the sky and put them in his eyes instead of speaking. Maybe she did.

“There’s no way,” he says back, cupping her cheeks and dusts the entire edge of her left cheekbone with kisses. She lets out a small laugh.

“Do you believe me now?” She asks and Dave hums. He closes his eyes, then thinks better of it and searches Lane’s face for something he must find because he smiles like the sun.

“Yeah. Yeah, I believe you, Lane. And I love you, too. Of course I love you; how could I not?” Dave says with a dreamy half-smile.

“Good,” she says. “Because I really want to kiss you, and all this talking is really distracting me from that goal,” Lane says, deadpan, and hauls Dave in roughly by the neck.

Her mouth slides deliciously against his until she bites his bottom lip and his shaking hands tense in her hair, pulling on it. She’s so glad she took her braids out for the night as she gasps, the sharp pain shooting sparks down her spine. She swipes her tongue across his bottom lip and into his mouth. He meets her halfway and she wonders why it was never this good with Zack. If sex would be as good as this. One of his hands slips dangerously low down on her waist and she imagines it lower, how that would feel.

Lane breaks the kiss and works on building a love bite on his neck, just to hear the sounds he makes when she does it. She bites, licks, kisses up and down his neck. She pulls away and it blooms dark red and the sight of him so debauched because of her has fire exploding inside her. This is the most sinful thing she’s ever done or even thought of and she can’t bring herself to regret it. Rory will cheer so loud when she finds out. Rory will probably cheer for a lot of things when she hears them.

“I’m definitely going to hell,” Lane pants into his mouth.

“Why?” Dave asks, dazed, gripping her waist.

“Because... just the things I think about doing with you…” She bites at the spot on his neck that she’s already worked over, is already bruised, and Dave’s hips stutter against hers as he chokes back a moan. “...to you…" Lane gets a hand under his shirt and scratches his back, determined this time. Dave lets out a noise that sounds positively destroyed. “...they cannot be holy.”

He pulls back and looks at her like she’s angelic and, even though she’s hellbound, she feels that way for a moment. She’s come so far in just a week, she can’t imagine what a life with Dave will bring her.

“You’ve been holy long enough.”

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends! Let me know if you enjoyed it, kudos and comments are highly appreciated!
> 
> Check me out on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/hepaliens) or [Tumblr](http://lanekim.tumblr.com)!


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